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[VII. O griefe euen on the Bud that fairely floured]

O griefe euen on the Bud that fairely floured

O griefe euen on the Bud that fairely floured The sun hath lowred, And ah ye brest which Loue durst neuer venture Bold death did enter Pittie O heauens that haue my loue in keeping My cries and weeping,