All love at first, like generous wine,
Ferments and frets until ‘tis fine;
But when ‘tis settled on the lee,
And from th’ impurer matter free,
Become the richer still the older,
And proves the pleasanter the colder.
I loved her from my heart,
She touched my soul n shake my heart,
I found her mine, but that wasn’t true,
I cried all night but she never dew,
Was it wrong to express my love?
Was it the same reason she left?
