Love Poem

If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to
love?
O! never faith could hold, if not to beauty
vow'd:
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant
prove;
Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers
bow'd.
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine
eyes,
Where all those pleasures live that art can
comprehend.
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall
suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee
commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without
wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts ad-
mire:
Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his
dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet
fire,
Celestial as thou art, O! do not love that wrong,
To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly
tongue.