About my heart, how'd you know more than I?
Your time spent loving's less than half my years,
And with that lengthy half it seems to die
When they, of many too, to yours it nears.
Assure no waste, as comparison suggests:
The dearest pleasures suffered no neglect;
Explored to full these hands and by requests
That had me thought my life had no defect;
What sweetly doubt you cast my shadow's past!
Yes now, to then, they take a shadow's form;
But seemingly anothers, running fast
Back to their time before your loving storm:
If measures of our love is how one's changed
The heart that was; was then one most estranged!