Mary Wroth
It is not love which you poor fools do deem
That doth appear by fond and outward shows
Of kissing, toying, or by swearing's gloze.
O no, these far are off from love's esteem;
Alas, these are not them that can redeem
Love lost, or winning, keep those chosen blows
Though oft with face and looks love overthrows
Yet so slight conquest doth not him beseem,
'T'is not a show of sighs, or tears can prove
Who loves indeed: which blasts of feigned love
Increase, or die as favours from them slide;
But in the soul true love in safety lies
Guarded by faith which to desert still hies,
And yet true looks do many blessing hide.