Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONG by JOHN DOWLAND

First Line: HUMOUR, SAY, WHAT MAK'ST THOU HERE?
Last Line: BUT THAT WHICH ONLY PLEASETH YOU.
Subject(s): HAPPINESS; JOY; DELIGHT;
HUMOUR, say, what mak'st thou here,
In the presence of a queen?
Princes hold conceit most dear;
All conceit in humour's seen.
Thou'rt a heavy leaden mood;
Humour is invention's food.
But never humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you.

O, I am as heavy as earth,
Say then—who is humour now?
I am now inclined to mirth,
Humour, I, as well as thou.
Why, then, 'tis I am drowned in woe:
No, no wit is cherished so:
But never humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you.

Mirth then is drowned in sorrow's brim:
O, in sorrow all thing's sleep;
No, no fool, the light things swim:
Heavy things sink to the deep.
In her presence all things smile,
Humour, frolic then awhile:
But never humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you.



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