Love's My Fault Poem by EDWIN TALLA HONEY

I kip no face in my mind,
Other than yours sown in my physce,
for those that reap must sheaf and bind,
satisfaction i do reap from love so blind.


The sweetest nut has the sowerest rind,
And so do beutiful roses prick as you'll find.
So to this love my soul i stick.
Finding strength in joints so weak.


Because i think i must speak,
I chide no breather but myself,
Whom i know most faults and weaks.
But this fault i wont change
Not even for one's best virtue.