Songes and Sonettes | ||
Of the mother that eat her childe at the siege of Ierusalem.
In doubtfull breast whiles motherly pityWith furious famine standeth at debate,
The mother sayth: O childe vnhappy
Returne thy bloud where thou hadst milke of late
Yeld me those lymmes that I made vnto thee,
And enter there where thou were generate.
For of one body agaynst all nature,
To an other must I make sepulture.
Songes and Sonettes | ||