IV. We cover thee, sweet face

WE cover thee, sweet face.
        Not that we tire of thee,
But that thyself fatigue of us;
        Remember, as thou flee,
We follow thee until
        Thou notice us no more,
And then, reluctant, turn away
        To con thee o'er and o'er,
And blame the scanty love
        We were content to show,
Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold
        If thou would'st take it now.