THe doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre loue, is vaine <br />That fondly feare to loose your liberty, <br />when loosing one, two liberties ye gayne, <br />and make him bond that bondage earst dyd fly. <br />Sweet be the bands, the which true loue doth tye, <br />without constraynt or dread of any ill: <br />the gentle birde feeles no captiuity <br />within her cage, but singes and feeds her fill. <br />There pride dare not approch, nor discord spill <br />the league twixt them, that loyal loue hath bound: <br />but simple truth and mutuall good will, <br />seekes with sweet peace to salue each others wou[n]d <br />There fayth doth fearlesse dwell in brasen towre, <br />and spotlesse pleasure builds her sacred bowre.<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxv-2/
