Fidessa more chaste then kinde. By B. Griffin |
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SONNET. XXVII.
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 | Fidessa |  |
SONNET. XXVII.
[Poore worme, poore silly worme, (alas poore beast)]
Poore worme, poore silly worme, (alas poore beast)Feare makes thee hide thy head within the groūd,
Because of creeping things thou art the least,
Yet euery foote giues thee thy mortall wound.
But I thy fellow worme am in worse state,
For thou thy Sunne enioyest, but I want mine:
I liue in irksome night: oh cruell fate!
My Sunne will neuer rise, nor euer shine.
Thus blind of light, mine eyes misguide my feete,
And balefull darknes makes me still afraide:
Men mocke me when I stumble in the streete,
And wonder how my yong sight so decaide.
Yet doe I ioy in this (euen when I fall)
That I shall see againe, and then see all.
| Fidessa | |