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Alfred Austin - Love’s Fitfulness
Work rating: Low

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