But I can tell - let truth be told - That love will change in growing old; Though day by day is nought to see, So delicate his motions be.

O soul, be patient: thou shalt find A little matter mend all this; Some strain of music to thy mind, Some praise for skill not spent amiss.

So sweet love seemed that April morn, when first we kissed beside the thorn, so strangely sweet, it was not strange we thought that love could never change.

Scatter the clouds that hide The face of heaven, and show Where sweet peace doth abide, Where Truth and Beauty grow.

Beauty being the best of all we know sums up the unsearchable and secret aims of nature.

But I can tell - let truth be told - That love will change in growing old; Though day by day is nought to see, So delicate his motions be.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.