Secret Love

No sickness worse than secret love
It's long, alas, since I pondered that.
No more delay; I now confess
my secret love, so slight and slim.

I gave a love that I can't conceal
to her hooded hair, her shy intent
her narrow brows, her blue-green eyes
her even teeth and aspect soft.

I gave as well - and so declare-
my soul's love to her soft throat
her lovely voice, delicious lips
snowy bosom, pointed breast.

And may not overlook, alas,
my cloud-hid love for her body bright
her trim straight foot, her slender sole,
her languid laugh, her timid hand.

Allow there was never known before
such a love as mine for her
there lives not, never did, nor will,
one who more gravely stole my love.

Do not torment me, lady.
Let our purposes agree.
You are my spouse on this Fair Plain
so let us embrace.

Anon Irish poet circa 16th century