A Tedious Affair

A tedious affair, his shadow to abide!
I should not trust his words or eyes;
Whoever was so drowned in pride
To extend our patience to a further size?
No, I should not agree at all.
My mistake may attain no remarkable price,
From this very angle, it is but too small;
I have his regrets written in an ink's disguise.
He thinks he can ascertain my strength;
Should I leave at once the sill?
Is he the one upon whom I depend?
Were he to come at last, this deal to seal!
Yet I see I have an ailment;
My head turns, my eyes confound
Everything I ardently call sentiment
Leaves me not in the least profound.
For I am not steady, nor constant,
Yet there's one thing I would much rather do:
Better to thrive in solitude, be distant,
Than to string my nerves on you.