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Dante Gabriel Rossetti - Sonnet XXXII: Equal Troth
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Not by one measure mayst thou mete our love;
For how should I be loved as I love thee?—
I, graceless, joyless, lacking absolutely
All gifts that with thy queenship best behove;—
Thou, throned in every heart`s elect alcove,
And crowned with garlands culled from every tree,
Which for no head but thine, by Love`s decree,
All beauties and all mysteries interwove.
But here thine eyes and lips yield soft rebuke:—
“Then only” (say`st thou) “could I love thee less,
When thou couldst doubt my love`s equality.”
Peace, sweet! If not to sum but worth we look,—
Thy heart`s transcendence, not my heart`s excess,—
Then more a thousandfold thou lov`st than I.
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