Love's Accounting

Sunburnt Summer less devours,
Less chill Winter's bitterness,
The bowers in Spring have fewer flowers,
Autumn's grapes are less,

There are less fish in all the sea,
La Beauce hath fewer harvestings,
You'll see less sands in Brittany,
And in Auvergne less springs,

The night less flaming torches wears,
The woods, less leaves to watch them through,
Than bears my heart of pains and cares,
Love, for love of you.