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from Aglaura.
SONG.
by Sir John Suckling |
No, no, fair heretic, it needs must be
But an ill love in me,
And worse for thee.
For were it in my power,
To love thee now this hour
More than I did the last ;
'Twould then so fall,
I might not love at all.
Love that can flow, and can admit increase,
Admits as well an ebb, and may grow less.
True love is still the same : the torrid zones,
And those more frigid ones,
It must not know ;
For love, grown cold or hot,
Is lust or friendship, not
The thing we have :
For that's a flame would die,
Held down or up too high.
Then thing I love more than I can express,
And would love more, could I but love thee less.
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Source:
Suckling, John. The Works of Sir John Suckling. A. Hamilton Thompson, ed.
London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., 1910. 118-119.
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Created by Anniina Jokinen on June 8, 2000.
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