Classic Poem

CCIX

I love, loved, and so doth she
And yet in love we suffer still.
The cause is strange, as seemeth me,
To love so well and want our will.

O deadly yea! O grievous smart!
Worse than refuse, unhappy gain!
In love whoever played this part
To love so well and live in pain?

Was ever hearts so well agreed
Since love was love, as I do trow,
That in their love so ill did speed
To love so well and live in woe?

This mourn we both and hath done long
With woeful plaint and careful voice.
Alas, it is a grievous wrong
To love so well and not rejoice.

And here an end of all our moan!
With sighing oft my breath is scant
Since of mishap ours is alone
To love so well and yet to want.

But they that causer is of this,
Of all our cares God send them part
That they may know what grief it is
To love so well and live in smart.