SONNET 154

The little Love-god lying once asleep  
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,    
Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep      
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand       
The fairest votary took up that fire   
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd;  
And so the general of hot desire       
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd.
This brand she quenched in a cool well by,     
Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual,    
Growing a bath and healthful remedy    
For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall,  
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, 
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. 



To Professor Whalen
                From Student Pharah Dubuisson English 102-005