Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 2, 10
My mourning mistresse garments blacke doth beare,
And I in blacke like her attired am:
Yet divers is the cause why blacke we weare,
She for anothers death doth shew the same:
I for another reason beare this sute,
Onely to shew by this my outward weede
Mine inward griefe, although my tongue be mute,
Of tender heart which deadly sighes doth bleede.
Thrise happy I, if (as in habite we
Are both in one) our mindes both one might be.
And I in blacke like her attired am:
Yet divers is the cause why blacke we weare,
She for anothers death doth shew the same:
I for another reason beare this sute,
Onely to shew by this my outward weede
Mine inward griefe, although my tongue be mute,
Of tender heart which deadly sighes doth bleede.
Thrise happy I, if (as in habite we
Are both in one) our mindes both one might be.
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