Poetry Friday - Love's Perjuries

I mentioned earlier this week that I am not a fan of love poetry, but I withhold any reservations for the work of Shakespeare. Today I'm sharing one of his poems.

Love's Perjuries
On a day, alack the day!
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me
That I am forsworn for thee:
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were,
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

The round up this week is being hosted by Kelly over at Big A little a. Do stop by and take in all the great poetry being shared this week. Before you go, don't forget to check out this week's poetry stretch results, where you'll find some yummy poetry on food. Happy poetry Friday, all!