XXVIII
Reading edition
FOR there is that in man which doth desire Some time, in every heart, the play of love: The emulation of his life above, Before he came to earth, here to aspire To something unattained, and feel the fire Of untaught passion, his new being move To sorrow, that it doth so ill behoove The sense of love to suddenly inspire. For who so harsh, that he denies th’ embrace Of beauty’s arms about his melting form; Or doth refuse the loved one’s proffered kiss, When, half reclining, she would seem to chase All care from off this earth, in one fair storm Of loveliness, whose presence is true bliss?