You say that I am fitful. Sweet, 'tis true; <br />But 'tis that I your fitfulness obey. <br />If you are April, how can I be May, <br />Or flaunt bright roses when you wear sad rue? <br />Shine like the sun, and my sky will be blue; <br />Sing, and the lark shall envy me my lay: <br />I do but follow where you point the way, <br />And what I feel you doing, straight must do. <br />The wind might just as well reproach the vane, <br />As you upbraid me for my shiftings, dear: <br />Blow from the south, and south I shall remain; <br />If you keep fixed, be sure I shall not veer. <br />Nay, on your change my changes so depend, <br />If ends your love, why then my love must end.<br /><br />Alfred Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-fitfulness/
