THE CORNET by HENRY HOWARD

I never saw you, madam, lay apart
Your cornet black, in cold nor yet in heat,
Sith first ye knew of my desire so great
Which other fancies chased clean from my heart.
Whiles to myself I did the thought reserve
That so unware did wound my woeful breast,
Pity I saw within your heart did rest;
But since ye knew I did you love and serve
Your golden tress was clad alway in black,
Your smiling looks were hid thus evermore,
All that withdrawn that I did crave so sore.
So doth this cornet govern me, alack,
In summer sun, in winter breath of frost,
Of your fair eyes whereby the light is lost.

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