Dear! I will love you, though you love me not!
Contempts will never shake my mind!
Misuse and scorn and silence move me not!
But I beseech you, be not kind.
Since loving me, you would approach me,
O, let your distance still reproach me!

For things remembered may be sweet,
As things imagined, and for me
A wearying rhythm of due feet
Were less esteemed than your apostasy.
Then, O my Love! Live still beyond my reach,
Leave me my dream of your dear look and speech.