E tenebras, lux dormiens

A poem about lust by a bard dead for 400 years, W.S.

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame,
Is lust in action, and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust.
Enjoyed no sooner, but despised straight
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad.
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so
Had having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe.
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows, yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.