Though inexperienc'd I am, I think,
From what mine own ears have heard oft' express'd,
Love, an o'erwrought and tempestuous drink,
Fallen in and out of leaves one sore stress'd.
Like looking upon the bright, burning sun,
Such a beauty that leaves one blind,
Love brings sweet pain that cannot be undone,
And leaving one to stumble, left behind.
Call me cynic if my words offend thee,
Call me a villain, destroyer of dreams,
But do you not wish to roam, to be free?
I do not wish to be bound, by no means.
Though if my mind were so soften'd to love
'Twould be by someone I've not yet heard of.

h.f.m.