Between my sense and love; I duel both
since newly roses lay upon my bed
for I cannot in just - accept to oath
as I'd concede my merit worth for wed.

My seams are withered next to youth in pair
each crinkle peeks their weight and furrows deep,
towards my reason's home and billows there
and bids to our affair be put asleep.

Tho' beauty greets the morn' as summer light
and fills my blemished chasms with lava glow
that pours on aging years a lulling bright
then unto where my love resides; would flow.

Resist no more! Her golden tempt demure
deserve I not, yet what will age assure!