Logic

What though you say

You will come to betray

If it were your caprice,

How harms me that way

This secret you wray

If it were my caprice?

To love you alway

—Though you blame me that day,

Or weep my caprice,

To be so much loving

That I’ve no god nor king

Nor aught but your caprice?

When you come to betray

And death is that day,

Your dear caprice;

What hurts me that way

A sorrow alway

Fit for my caprice?

Paul Verlaine