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George Gordon Byron - To Anne
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Oh, Anne, your offences to me have been grievous:
   I thought from my wrath no atonement could save you:
But woman is made to command and deceive us —
   I look `d in your face, and I almost forgave you.

I vow`d I could ne`er for a moment respect you, 
   Yet thought that a day`s separation was long;
When we met, I determined again to suspect you
   Your smile soon convinced me suspicion was wrong.

I swore, in a transport of young indignation,
   With fervent contempt evermore to disdain you: 
I saw you - my anger became admiration;
   And now, all my wish, all my hope`s to regain you.

With beauty like yours, oh, how vain the contention!
   Thus lowly I sue for forgiveness before you;
At once to conclude such a fruitless dissension, 
   Be false, my sweet Anne, when I cease to adore you!

January 16, 1807.
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