Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a heaven in hell's despair.

Turn away no more; Why wilt thou turn away? The starry floor, The watery shore,> Is given thee till the break of day.

Love seeketh only Self to please, To bind another to its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a hell in heaven's despite.

Hear the voice of the Bard, Who present, past, and future, sees; Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walked among the ancient trees.

Doesn't love show it's face when it satisfies the need of the loved one, for the loved one's sake alone?

It's afterwards you realize that the feeling of happiness you had with a man didn't neccesarily prove that you loved him.

The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th' assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne; Al this mene I be love.