Hilaire Belloc Quote

That I grow sour, who only lack delight;
That I descend to sneer, who only grieve:
That from my depth I should contemn your height;
That with my blame my mockery you receive;
Huntress and splendour of the woodland night,
Diana of this world, do not believe.

"Sonnet: Do not believe when lovely lips report" - Sonnets and Verse (1938)