I will confess <br />With cheerfulness, <br />Love is a thing so likes me, <br />That, let her lay <br />On me all day, <br />I'll kiss the hand that strikes me. <br /> <br />I will not, I, <br />Now blubb'ring cry, <br />It, ah! too late repents me <br />That I did fall <br />To love at all-- <br />Since love so much contents me. <br /> <br />No, no, I'll be <br />In fetters free; <br />While others they sit wringing <br />Their hands for pain, <br />I'll entertain <br />The wounds of love with singing. <br /> <br />With flowers and wine, <br />And cakes divine, <br />To strike me I will tempt thee; <br />Which done, no more <br />I'll come before <br />Thee and thine altars empty.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hymn-to-love/
