Had we but world enough, and time
To speak in metered, measured rhyme-
My heart would be but yours alone
And candy-coated words condone.
Alas, my dear, you do profess
At least two hundred to each breast
All reverence to parts what fade with age-
And not a glance to mine iris sage!
Could I not have my mind, kind Sir,
If your scavenger love doth prey on her?
That woman you so beg to relent-
She is not me, my heaven-sent.
Must love rest upon my "youthful hue"
Which fades faster than morning dew?
Is it ME you love, or but the thought
Of keeping your vegetable love from rot?
These iron gates of love don't dare
A prison make, nor beauty makes fair
A child, whose soul shows her true form…
Give praise to that! What good is norm?
My only love, for that you be,
Might you not wait- to show that ye
Hath truly cared, for right and wrong,
And thus more to make a union strong?
For time is but God's ploy to show
That nothing lasts, but him we know
Can be tricked by us! Our love defers
To him who says "The decision is hers."