True Love's Heart

Just a poem I scribbled down one day, standing at the kitchen sink.

What is this, that a good man would willingly unwill?

Where arrows fall, From Cupids grasp
and in lovers cause rejoice
Here lay unfounded,
by his blind hands

That heart,
good love's heart,
will not his good heart love

Who assumes to choose
Lets not who love may have for him,
but who he might know as his

Is this, o' love, which lovers seek,
and in painfull pleasure do depart
In life great love is never great, but good,
none but the tomb may speak of true

All this, good heart,
o' weary heart,
o' weary love,
All this that a good man could deny,
and would, were choice was his

Come my Lord, my heart, my love
Turn thy blind eyes from mine I pray
Cast your stare instead to his
and in the seeming freedom of love be bound

For my true love's heart,
will never true love see