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[Al my sense thy sweetnesse gained]
  
  
  
  
  
  
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[Al my sense thy sweetnesse gained]

[_]

To the tune of a Neapolitan Villanell.

Al my sense thy sweetnesse gained,
Thy faire haire my heart enchained,
My poore reason thy words moved,
So that thee like heaven I loved.
Fa la la leridan, dan dan dan deridan:
Dan dan dan deridan deridan dei:
While to my minde the out side stood,
For messenger of inward good.
Now thy sweetnesse sowre is deemed,
Thy haire not worth a haire esteemed:
Reason hath thy words removed,
Finding that but words they proved.
Fa la la leridan dan dan dan deridan,
Dan dan dan deridan deridan dei,
For no faire signe can credit winne,
If that the substance faile within.
No more in thy sweetnesse glorie,
For thy knitting haire be sorie:
Use thy words but to bewaile thee,
That no more thy beames availe thee.
Dan, dan,
Dan, dan,
Lay not thy colours more to view,
Without the picture be found true.

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Wo to me, alas she weepeth!
Foole in me, what follie creepeth,
Was I to blaspheme enraged,
Where my soule I have engaged.
Dan, dan,
Dan, dan,
And wretched I must yeeld to this,
The fault I blame her chastnesse is.
Sweetnesse sweetly pardon folly,
Ty me haire your captive holly,
Words, ô words of heavenlie knowledge,
Know my words their faults acknowledge.
Dan, dan,
Dan, dan.
And all my life I will confesse,
The lesse I love, I live the lesse.