Would it were I had been false, not you!
I that am nothing, not you that are all
I, never the worse for a touch or two
On my speckled hide; not you, the pride
Of the day, my swan, that a first fleck’s fall
On her wonder of white must unswan, undo!

But what will God say? Oh, my sweet
Think, and be sorry you did this thing
Though earth were unworthy to feel your feet
There’s a heaven above may deserve your love:
Should you forfeit heaven for a snapt gold ring
And a promise broke, were it just or meet?

Dear, I look from my hiding-place
Are you still so fair? Have you still the eyes?
Be happy! Add but the other grace
Be good! Why want what the angels vaunt?
I knew you once: but in Paradise
If we meet, I will pass nor turn my face