No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authórizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are:
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense—
Thy adverse party is thy advocate—
And ‘gainst myself a lawful plea commence.
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an áccessory needs must be
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.
This poem talks about the complexity of the lover's feelings who wants to be merciful and hates himself for showing such a mercy. This clarifies the nature of the true love which is not simple at all. In the depth of love, the lover may have different and opposed emotion at the same time. Also, in this poem the poet stresses the theme of wordily imperfection, "Nature is imperfect as well as man."