Lovers

Why should I ask perfection of thee, sweet,     That have so little of mine own to bring?     That thou art beautiful from head to feet -     Is that, beloved, such a little thing,     That I should ask more of thee, and should fling     Thy largesse from me, in a world like this,     O generous giver of thy perfect kiss?     Thou gavest me thy lips, thine eyes, thine hair;     I brought thee worship - was it not thy due?     If thou art cruel - still art thou not fair?     Roses thou gavest - shalt thou not bring rue?     Alas! have I not brought thee sorrow too?     How dare I face the future and its drouth,     Missing that golden honeycomb thy mouth?     Kiss and make up - 'tis the wise ancient way;     Back to my arms, O bountiful deep breast!     No more of words that know not what they say;     To kiss is wisdom - folly all the rest.     Dear loveliness so mercifully pressed     Against my heart - I shake with sudden fear     To think - to losing thee I came so near.