When wrongly I be loving you

Love may waste my passing time
Should wrongly I be loving you.
Love is not now hers or mine
If night is spent in lonesome two.
Love is not the sacred bond
Unless it be discovered found,
From secret dwellings far beyond
And in so doing bind us bound.
Love is neither high nor low
In cosmic orders dull or bright,
Yet being all places at once
Scarce it comes when darkest night.
Love is nothing save the fact
That love is nature in its force
And when two beings come to act
Their loving feels with no remorse.
Love is in its nature bliss
Yet never can these feelings be
For hate is never far amiss
When wrongly I be loving thee.