His Excuse for Loving

Let it not your wonder move, 
Less your laughter, that I love.
 
Though I now write fifty years, 
I have had, and have, my peers.
 
Poets, though divine, are men; 
Some have loved as old again.
 
And it is not always face, 
Clothes, or fortune gives the grace, 
Or the feature, or the youth; 
But the language and the truth, 
With the ardor and the passion, 
Gives the lover weight and fashion.
 
If you then would hear the story, 
First, prepare you to be sorry 
That you never knew till now 
Either whom to love or how; 
But be glad as soon with me 
When you hear that this is she 
Of whose beauty it was sung, 
She shall make the old man young, 
Keep the middle age at stay, 
And let nothing hide decay, 
Till she be the reason why 
All the world for love may die.
 

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