, ,

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