University of Virginia Library

[iii] MAD.

Trees happier farre then I,
Which haue the Grace to heaue your Heads so hie,
And ouer-looke those Plaines:
Grow till your Branches kisse that lofty Skie
Which her (sweet Her) containes.
There make her know mine endlesse Loue, and Paines,
And how these Teares which from mine Eyes doe fall,
Helpt you to rise so Tall:
Her tell, as once I for her sake lou'd Breath,
So for her sake I now court lingring Death.