Love, I love thee
That keeps man's mind
In its calmest state
And filleth the heart
With joyful fundness.

And I love thee, love
That revolves the universe
In endless circle of stranger brothers
And turneth one a treasurer
And pall-bearer of anothers’ heart
Yet nothing demandeth nor expect
In return, save thee, love.

Yet have I come to hate thee,
Though keeps the mind calm said
(of thee) good sailors not in calm sea made
Yet thou art fickle and flimsy
Than the (course of) moon.

I have come to hate thee,
For thou liveth in every hart, thy abode
And maketh a universe chain of brothers
Yet strongeth not than thy wickest binders
Thus bringeth not thee
The world, under thy own abode

I’ve come to hate thee:
Avalanche of thee turneth vice,
Thy sharp sheathed sword
Killer of ingenuity—
Muffleth a giant thrice
To the earth, under pillars of trouble bent.

I’ve come to hate thee, love
Though thou giveth all
In faith, yet taketh more
With thy willy wheels call
And leaveth a living sapien
A little but a teddy brained

And even a wounded heart
Bleedeth more of thee
Love I’ve come to hate thee.