Her lov'd I most, By thee that's lost, Though she were wonne with leasure; She was my gaine, But to my paine, Thou spoyl'st me of my Treasure. The Ship full fraught With Gold, farre sought, Though ne'r so wisely helmed, May suffer wracke In sayling backe, By Tempest over-whelmed. But shee, good Sir, Did not preferre You, for that I was ranging; But for that shee Found faith in mee, And she lov'd to be changing. Therefore boast not Your happy Lot, Be silent now you have her; The time I knew She slighted you, When I was in her favour. None stands so fast, But may be cast By Fortune, and disgraced: Once did I weare Her Garter there, Where you her Glove have placed. I had the Vow That thou hast now, And Glances to discover Her Love to mee, And she to thee Reades but old Lessons over. She hath no Smile That can beguile, But as my Thought I know it; Yea, to a Hayre, Both when and where, And how she will bestow it. What now is thine, Was onely mine, And first to me was given; Thou laugh'st at mee, I laugh at thee, And thus we two are even. But Ile not mourne, But stay my Turne, The Wind may come about, Sir, And once againe May bring me in, And helpe to beare you out, sir. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 119 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SUICIDE IN THE TRENCHES by SIEGFRIED SASSOON SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by SARA TEASDALE THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WHEN THE FOLKS COME ALONG by FREDERICK L. ALLEN THE EAGLE OF SONG by BACCHYLIDES |