Cleo Laine - My Love Is As a Fever [Sonnet 147]

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill
The uncertain sickly appetite to please

My reason, the physician to my love
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except

Past cure I am, now Reason is past care
And frantic mad with evermore unrest
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are
At random from the truth vainly expressed

For I have sworn thee fair
And thought thee bright
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night

Written by:
PETER THIESSEN

Publisher:
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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