Many will love you; you were made for love; 
For the soft plumage of the unruffled dove 
Is not so soft as your caressing eyes. 
You will love many; for the winds that veer 
Are not more prone to shift their compass, dear, 
Than your quick fancy flies. 

Many will love you; but I may not, no; 
Even though your smile sets all my life aglow, 
And at your fairness all my senses ache. 
You will love many; but not me, my dear, 
Who have no gift to give you but a tear 
Sweet for your sweetness' sake.