Being the Nineteenth of the Black Hole Ballads
LOVE not me for comely grace,
For my pleasant handsome face,
Nor for any beauteous part;
No, nor for my loving heart;
But for my long and supple cane,
That will us twain ne’er sever.
Keep therefore thy dull brain and eye
And love me still, while can I ply,
So thou mayest in all thy pain
Dote on me for ever!
6. 3. 1928