Love seeketh not itself to please ..

... nor for itself hath any care

The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love,
    And saw what I never had seen:
    A Chapel was built in the midst,
    Where I used to play on the green.

    
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
    And "Thou shalt not" writ over the door;
    So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
    That so many sweet flowers bore,

    
And I saw it was filled with graves,
    And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
    And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
    And binding with briars my joys & desires. 

William Blake (1757 -1827)