Alexander Brome (1620–1666)

’TIS true I never was in love;

But now I mean to be,

For there’s no art

Can shield a heart

From love’s supremacy.

Though in my nonage I have seen

A world of taking faces,

I had not age or wit to ken

Their several hidden graces.

Those virtues which, though thinly set,

In others are admirèd,

In thee are altogether met,

Which make thee so desirèd;

That though I never was in love,

Nor never meant to be,

Thyself and parts

Above my arts

Have drawn my heart to thee.