Bad Love

Burning light grants warmth to the weariest,
Yet soon finds that light’s splendor twists and blinds.
Such tragedy befalls still the greatest,
And severs the marriage of the true minds.

How noble such fire! How noble in sooth!
Yet blunders no matter how virtuous be!
So meek and pure, yet a raging death-booth,
Is passion impetuous to holder’s plea.

Bind me no longer, O wild scorned one!
For bad love is not good, it is a sin
That slowly burns my heart bare as the sun
And numbs her faith and torments by loud din.

Temper reason, temper this unruled flame,
Let loose thy arrows and thy dogs of war,
Do battle till the day she groweth tame,
And bring her to me from her exile far.

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