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Deep sorrows I, in solitude partake,
As mirth, we shared while basking, sweet, in bliss,
Are times such when I hid grief for your sake,
For gloomy thoughts are what I oft dismiss;

It seems that night falls every time you frown,
And breaks to dawn in glory as you smile,
Your palm that pats my hair feels like a crown,
While wine poured sans your smile tastes more like bile;

But wine needs bitter be in loneliness,
Sweet drinks might make strange server sweetish too,
Lest there ensues a show of friendliness
Which renders previous vows of love untrue;

My love, I from my oath would never shrink,
Or better be that I of hemlock drink.