WITH whomsoever I share the spring
I share my mouth,
And credit to him all birth, all south,
All seasoning
Who flies with the first bland breath of May
To my chill bed.
Then whatsoever the vows I’ve said
And will yet say,
There is no stirring of truth in me
But to the season.
I tell you this that you may work treason
On perjury,
And whomsoever you find untrue,
Imprison to spend all springs with you.