Love it is makes heroes out of men,
And love return’d becomes its own reward,
From heart to treasur’d heart its treasure lend
Such gold a thousand times from trove unbarr’d.
Fie, gold!, such love is like the very air:
To love is to inspire, and thus to live;
And yet, breathe out too much and nothing there,
Expire, for no air life cannot long forgive.
Thus, my dear, did I my love breathe out,
In one unguarded moment share with you
And passion’s flame too soon, too soon blow out,
And wait for love to breathe on me anew.
For loving air my failing breath doth yearn,
For of restraint my heart will never learn.