SWEET rois of vertew and of gentilness, Delytsum lily of everie lustynes, Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear, And everie vertew that is wenit dear, Except onlie that ye are mercyless Into your garth this day I did persew; There saw I flowris that fresche were of hew; Baith quhyte and reid most lusty were to seyne, And halesome herbis upon stalkis greene; Yet leaf nor flowr find could I nane of rew. I doubt that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne, Has slain this gentil herb, that of mene; Quhois piteous death dois to my heart sic paine That I would make to plant his root againe, -- So confortand his levis unto me bene. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF AUTUMN by PAUL VERLAINE DEATH (1) by MAXWELL BODENHEIM THE SPIRIT OF SHAKESPEARE: 2 by GEORGE MEREDITH IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 129 by ALFRED TENNYSON MAUD MULLER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE PILGRIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |