| Philomel - |
|
|
| To His Friend Master R. L., in Praise of Music and Poetry - |
|
|
| Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love |
|
|
| My flocks feed not |
|
|
| When as thine eye hath chose the dame |
|
|
| Live with me, and be my love |
|
|
| Scarce had the morning starre hid from the light |
|
|
| Oh would to God he would but pitty mee |
|
|
| But if thou wilt not pittie my complaint |
|
|
| When will my May come, that I may embrace thee? |
|
|