My heart is vext with this fantastic fear

My heart is vext with this fantastic fear,—
Had I been born too soon or far away,
Then had I never known thy beauty, dear,
And thou hadst spent on others all thy May.
The idle thought can freeze an idle brain
Faint at imagined loss of such dear prize;
I pore upon the slender chance again,
That taught me all the meaning of those eyes.
But creeps a whisper with a treason tongue—
Had'st never sunn'd beneath this maiden's glance
Another Love thou hadst as madly sung,
For Love is certain but the loved one chance.
Deject and doubtful thus I forge quaint fear,
But question little, Love, when thou art near.