Constancy

I love her with the seasons, with the winds,
As the stars worship, as anemones
Shudder in secret for the sun, as bees
Buzz round an open flower: in all kinds
My love is perfect, and in each she finds
Herself the goal; then why, intent to tease
And rob her delicate spirit of its ease
Hastes she to range me with inconstant minds?

If she should die, if I were left at large
On earth without her — I, on earth, the same
Quick mortal with a thousand cries, her spell
She fears would break. And I confront the charge.
As sorrowing, and as careless of my fame,
As Christ intact before the infidel.