can it be right to give what i can give?

to let thee sit beneath the fall of tears

as salt as mine, and hear the sighing years

re-sighing on my lips renunciative

through those infrequent smiles which fail to live

for all thy adjurations? o my fears,

that this can scarce be right! we are not peers

so to be lovers; and i own, and grieve,

that givers of such gifts as mine are, must

be counted with the ungenerous. out, alas!

i will not soil thy purple with my dust,

nor breathe my poison on thy venice-glass,

nor give thee any love—which were unjust.

beloved, i only love thee! let it pass.