Chapter CVIII

No mind have I to tell thee all thou art,
Yet giving half, how can I keep the rest,
Since, knowing all, I see both worst and best,
And may not then in truth withhold a part?
Thy worst is like love’s dagger to my heart;
Like Satan, in angelic vestment drest,
That bringeth pain disguised into my breast.
Such is thy worst. Let me thy best impart.
Thy best is all thyself, thy beauty’s charm,
Thy glance, thy smile, thy youth’s fair consciousness,
Thy power to endear, to twine thine arm
With subtle grace about love’s deep distress.
Still, be it worst or best, thou dost me harm,
Though bringing pleasure with thy soft caress.