The Constant Lover

…from the quills of dead white poets

Sir John Suckling (1609 – 1642)

Out upon it! I have lov’d

Three whole days together;

And am like to love three more,

If it prove fair weather.


Time shall moult away his wings,

Ere he shall discover

In the whole wide world again

Such a constant lover.


But the spite on ‘t is, no praise

Is due at all to me:

Love with me had made no stays

Had it any been but she.


Had it any be but she,

And that very face,

There had been at least ere this

A dozen dozen in her place.


About Avadoro Worden

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