The Scrutiny

Why should you swear I am forsworn,

Since thine I vowed to be?

Lady, it is already morn,

And 'twas last night I swore to thee

That fond impossibility.

Have I not loved thee much and long,

A tedious twelve hours' space?

I must all other beauties wrong,

And rob thee of a new embrace,

Could I still dote upon thy face.

Not but all joy in thy brown hair

By others may be found;—

But I must search the black and fair,

Like skilful mineralists that sound

For treasure in unploughed-up ground.

Then if, when I have loved my round,

Thou prov'st the pleasant she,

With spoils of meaner beauties crowned

I laden will return to thee,

Ev'n sated with variety.