Love not me for comely grace,
For pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart,-
For those may fail, or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever:
Keep therefore a true woman’s eye,
And love me still, but know not why-
So hast thou the same reason still
To doat upon me ever!
-Anon.
Isn’t that beautiful? This little ditty is proof that you don’t need to use big words to make beautiful poetry.
I think ‘doat’ means ‘dote’, what does it mean J et al?
