 | Poems |  |
On a sparke-of fire fixing on a Gentlewomans brest.
Faire Julia sitting by the fire,An amorous spark, with hot desire,
Flew to her brest, but could not melt
The chast snow there, which when it felt,
And that resistance it did bide,
For griefe it blush'd, and so it di'd.
Yet lest it should prove ought unkind,
It contrite ashes left behind.
| Poems | |