Of Bayes and Willow

Shewe forth your Bayes that boaste of sweete delightes,
For I ne may such blisfull hap attayne:
The Willow branche most fit for wofull wightes,
Beholde I beare, a badge of secret payne.
Which loe my sides enshryne, and shall doe still,
Till cruell Fate hath wrought on me her will.
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