Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow!
  Faithless am I save to love's self alone.
  Were you not lovely I would leave you now:
  After the feet of beauty fly my own.
  Were you not still my hunger's rarest food,
  And water ever to my wildest thirst,
  I would desert you -- think not but I would! --
  And seek another as I sought you first.
  But you are mobile as the veering air,
  And all your charms more changeful than the tide,
  Wherefore to be inconstant is no care:
  I have but to continue at your side.
  So wanton, light and false, my love, are you,
  I am most faithless when I most am true.
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