XIV To His Forsaken Mistress
I do confess thou’rt smooth and fair,
And I might have gone near to love thee,
Had I not found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak, had power to move thee;
But I can let thee now alone, 5
As worthy to be loved by none.
I do confess thou’rt sweet, but find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind,
That kisses everything it meets: 10
And since thou can with more than one,
Thou’rt worthy to be kissed by none.
The morning rose that untouched stands,
Armed with her briars, how sweetly smells
But, plucked and strained through ruder hands, 15
Her scent no longer with her dwells.
But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves fall from her, one by one.
Such fate ere long will thee betide,
When thou hast handled been a while; 20
Like sere flowers to be thrown aside;—
And I will sigh, while some will smile,
To see thy love for more than one
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.
Sir Robert Aytoun.