THOSE lines that I
before have writ do lie |
|
Even those that said I could not love you
dearer: |
|
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why |
|
My most full flame should afterwards burn
clearer. |
|
But reckoning Time, whose milliond
accidents |
5 |
Creep in twixt vows, and change decrees
of kings, |
|
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpst
intents, |
|
Divert strong minds to the course of altering
things; |
|
Alas! why, fearing of Times tyranny, |
|
Might I not then say, Now I love you
best, |
10 |
When I was certain oer incertainty, |
|
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? |
|
Love is a babe; then might I
not say so, |
|
To give full growth to that which
still doth grow? |
|