Our love was all arrayed in pleasantness, A tender little love that sighed and smiled At little happy nothings, like a child, A dainty little love in fancy dress. But now the love that once was half in play Has come to be this grave and piteous thing. Why did you leave me all the suffering For all your memory when you went away? You might have played the play out, O my friend, Closing upon a kiss our comedy. Or is it, then, a fault of taste in me, Who like no tragic exit at the end? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SACRIFICE SELF-COMPENSATED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE LAST MAN: RECEPTION OF EVIL TIDINGS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PSALM 102 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE INTERESTING by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17 by THOMAS CAMPION MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: SONG (2) by THOMAS CAMPION |