CIV
Reading edition
THOUGH my true love should be my own undoing, In leading me where wisdom may disprove, Yet would I choose, in spite of all, to love, So I might have the triumph of thy wooing. Then might I feel that youth I were renewing; My heart’s sad livery for once remove; And I might ride through avenues above The common path that life hath been pursuing. For nought could equal love, my love, with thee; Nor could I ever tire of thy praise, If thou all that I wish wouldst be to me, And my soul unto Heaven wouldst upraise. Since in love’s season lovers all agree, Then give me back what I lose in thy gaze.