Passion.

As a weed beneath the ocean,
As a pool beneath a tree
Answers with each breath or motion
An imperious mastery;

So my spirit swift with passion
Finds in every look a sign,
Catching in some wondrous fashion
Every mood that governs thine.

In a moment it will borrow,
Flashing in a gusty train,
Laughter and desire and sorrow
Anger and delight and pain.

Where love begins, there dead thy first desire:
A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.

When what is lov'd is present, love doth spring;
But being absent, love lies languishing.

O jealousy, that art
The canker of the heart;
And mak'st all hell
Where thou do'st dwell;
For pity be
No fury, or no firebrand to me.

Far from me I'll remove
All thoughts of irksome love:
And turn to snow,
Or crystal grow,
To keep still free,
O! soul-tormenting jealousy, from thee.

Let moderation on thy passions wait;
Who loves too much, too much the lov'd will hate.

Those possessions short-liv'd are,
Into the which we come by war.