VIII
Reading edition
IF wrongfully I moan’d thy ‘pretty wrongs’, When I was ’sometime absent from thy heart’, O none so trusting but to him belongs Some moody moment of his mortal part! No man doth Nature make whose trust doth ever Unveering with all winds point still the same; None is so whole in health he knows no fever To shake the firm composure of his frame. My love so wholly thine, thy worth so dear, Made each thine absence so distract my breast, That in his turmoil faith sometime to fear Converted, doubting most when most ’twas blest. Because mine own heart lone without thee seem’d, Me absent from thy heart I falsely deem’d.
