| Earth in beauty dressed |
| Awaits returning spring. |
| All true love must die, |
| Alter at the best |
| Into some lesser thing. |
| Prove that I lie. |
| Such body lovers have, |
| Such exacting breath, |
| That they touch or sigh. |
| Every touch they give, |
| Love is nearer death. |
| Prove that I lie. |