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Samuel Daniel - Love Is A Sickness
Work rating: Medium

Love is a sickness full of woes,    
All remedies refusing;  
A plant that with most cutting grows,    
Most barren with best using.                
Why so?         

More we enjoy it, more it dies;  
If not enjoy`d, it sighing cries—                  
Heigh ho!
    
Love is a torment of the mind,    
A tempest everlasting;  
And Jove hath made it of a kind    
Not well, nor full nor fasting.                
Why so?    

More we enjoy it, more it dies;  
If not enjoy`d, it sighing cries—  
Heigh ho!
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