Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove; O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worths unknown, although his height be taken. Sonnet CXVI.
I loved a lass, a fair one, As fair as eer was seen; She was indeed a rare one, Another Sheba queen: But, fool as then I was, I thought she loved me too: But now, alas! shes left me, Falero, lero, loo! George WitherI Loved a Lass.