To Love Her Was His Disease

To love her was his disease —
It'd kill him if he could not please.

And love serves to perfect its wooed,
Not merely please its object's mood.

For 'her good' was his passion,
But not in common halfist fashion:

No doubt, half-loves prevail the day,
If armies win by what they say;

But whole-loves win, I say it's true,
If armies win by what they do.