Classic Poem

CLXXXIV

Spite hath no power to make me sad
Nor scornfulness to make me plain.
It doth suffice that once I had
And so to leave it is no pain.
Let them frown on that least doth gain;
Who did rejoice must needs be glad.
And though with words thou ween'st to reign
It doth suffice that once I had.

Since that in checks thus overthwart
And coyly looks thou dost delight,
It doth suffice that mine thou wert
Though change hath put thy faith to flight.
Alas, it is a peevish spite
To yield thyself and then to part.
But since thou sett'st thy faith so light
It doth suffice that mine thou wert.

And since thy love doth thus decline
And in thy heart such hate doth grow,
It doth suffice that thou wert mine
And with goodwill I quit it so.
Sometime my friend, farewell, my foe!
Since thou change I am not thine.
But for relief of all my woe
It doth suffice that thou wert mine.

Praying you all that hears this song
To judge no wight, nor none to blame,
It doth suffice she doth me wrong
And that herself doth know the same.
And though she change, it is no shame:
Their kind it is and hath been long.
Yet I protest she hath no name;
It doth suffice she doth me wrong.