Why, lovely boy, why fly'st thou me, 
That languish in these flames for thee?
I'm Black, 'tis true; why, so is Night, 
And Love doth in Dark shades delight.
The whole world, do but close thine eye, 
Will seem to thee as Black as l; 
Or op't, and see what a Black shade
Is by thine own fair body made, 
That follows thee where ere thou go:
Oh, who allow'd would do not so?
Let me forever dwell so nigh, 
And thou shalt need no other shade than I.