Penguin's Poems for Love (Penguin Classics)

by Laura Barber

EPHELIA To One That Asked Me Why I Loved J.G. Why do I love? go ask the glorious sun Why every day it round the world doth run: Ask Thames and Tiber why they ebb and flow: Ask damask roses why in June they blow: Ask ice and hail the reason why they’re cold: Decaying beauties, why they will grow old: They’ll tell thee, Fate, that everything doth move, Inforces them to this, and me to love. There is no reason for our love or hate, ’Tis irresistible as Death or Fate; ’Tis not his face; I’ve sense enough to see, That is not good, though doated on by me: Nor is’t his tongue, that has this conquest won, For that at least is equalled by my own: His carriage can to none obliging be, ’Tis rude, affected, full of vanity: Strangely ill natur’d, peevish and unkind, Unconstant, false, to jealousy inclin’d: His temper could not have so great a power, ’Tis mutable, and changes every hour: Those vigorous years that women so adore Are past in him: he’s twice my age and more; And yet I love this false, this worthless man, With all the passion that a woman can; Doat on his imperfections, though I spy Nothing to love; I love, and know not why. Since ’tis decreed in the dark book of Fate, That I should love, and he should be ingrate.