No man can trust his fairest love is kind,
For art has alchemy so subtly bold
It turns base metal into seeming gold;
And faith in Nature's goodness is as blind.
For under ripeness of the apple's rind
Corruption often soils exploring teeth,
And sour whey may lurk in depths beneath
The cream of goodness in a placid mind.
Since this is so, I shall not risk a test
And lose you quite. Indeed there is no need.
Still on your beauty shall my senses feed,
While from the best ingredients of dessert
In me I shall create blood, soul, and heart,
An inner you, as perfect as the rest.