St. Valentines Day

Guess what I did. Wrote a poem. It is in work so I do realize that meter is off in certain places. I promise that I will fix it, but here it is now.

Your days are young, but ill and rotten
Love is seen, bought to ignore.
Bachelorhood is soon forgotten,
With contracts signed in life before.
In places public the look I feign,
Which love doth not entertain.

Continue on poor wretched soul
And hope to find one fairer than thee
smoke to death as a goal
Tho' she has value more than tobackee.
For her to have its qualities would be nice
But it have hers, shall not suffice.

Go to the lady, find the seek;
At the lusty wench do not curse
When in boys it may seem weak
But write your sweet a lovely verse
Into love may easeth
And do not stir it, until it pleaseth.