How can I grieve for this displanted love
So lately killed with canker in its breast,
When I am visited by Gods above
In thy every look and sweet caress?
My mourning blacks are foil’d night and day
By the riotous color in your wit,
And while my bruiséd heart longs to delay,
With Cupid’s cruelest arrow I am hit.
Still, exercise some mercy, I implore
While you are wooing with your many charms
For though I am most anxious to adore,
This fever you incite may bring me harm.
Thus new-infected, yet I hope it be
The sickness and the cure are both in thee.
© 2016 Anne Yumi Kobori