Many will love you; you were made for love; For the soft plumage of the unruffled dove Is not so soft as your caressing eyes. You will love many; for the winds that veer Are not more prone to shift their compass, dear, Than your quick fancy flies. Many will love you; but I may not, no; Even though your smile sets all my life aglow, And at your fairness all my senses ache. You will love many; but not me, my dear, Who have no gift to give you but a tear Sweet for your sweetness' sake.