I'd long for sorrow, if that sorrow comes;
By touch or voice that she bestow to me
Compare to nought, displeasure then becomes
Attention I have yearned, that mine could be,
Despite such poor reception mine be worth;
That I'm recieved, delights to my neglect
And gives more heartfelt meaning to my birth
That beauty slights their hair, for my affect.
For I, if in my loving kingdom meet-
Her scorn, her frown rekindles then love's hope;
In one as dried of love that love shall greet
And with her bitter sweets, shall both elope:

And brush this shadowed heart out of it's dust
Till then of greater scream: 'now love's a must!'