Classic Poem

Love is a law, a discord of such force
That 'twixt our sense and reason makes divorce.
Love's a desire that to obtain betime
We lose an age of years pluck'd from our prime,
Love is a thing to which we soon consent,
As soon refuse, but sooner far repent.
Then what must women be that are the cause,
That Love hath life? that Lovers feel such laws?
They're like the winds upon Lapanthae's shores,
That still are changing. Oh then love no more.
A woman's love is like that Syrian flow'r
That buds, and spreads, and withers in an hour.