Thy kindnesses are to me sweet

As a barbed rose, which I grasp ungloved

To learn that I was unloved 

By thee was to my soul a frosty defeat

But my heart scarce can dwell in conceit

For thy thorned unlove was not in spite

And it was greater kindness to speak aright

Than to lead me on in vain deceit

I hold it not against thee when we meet

And neither thou makest efforts to me avoid

Our friendship was not by this destroyed

And that, to me, doth romance exceed

By thy choice doth our friendship dwell

So content we are, for all is well