I grant thou wert of mine fond affection.
Darling on the vine blushing in thy form
To hold thee closer t’was my infection,
And thine fragrant blossom a thunderstorm.
Suddenly, completely, all instinct gone,
Finding no way out, all safety forsake
In thine perfection thou wert queen of swan;
Such intoxicating beauty mine ache.
If thou could, would thou mine crazed heart repair
Cracked, destroyed; the crown of thy noble prince
For in mine fantasy no one doth care;
Mine complexion dimmed for such pain doth wince.
Thou took mine youth, this inward sorrow bear;
And I, graveside, by chance, forgive thee there.