A summer’s day ‘tis certain you are not.

Thy beauty is more stormy than serene,

and nothing calls my blood to run so hot

as when you fix those flashing eyes of green

 

upon mine own. And thus you pierce my heart,

to stir it in the tempest of thy gaze.

Not just a whim, no simple Cupid’s dart,

but certitude remaining all my days.

 

So nature’s course is changed by fickle chance

that brought we two together, no design,

but fortune took me where your passing glance

would come to rest, and tie your fate to mine.

 

So long as breath still fills my mortal frame,

so long it will delight to breathe thy name.