Poems | ||
57
SONG.
To my Mistris, I burning in love.
I burne , and cruell you, in vaineHope to quench me with disdaine;
If from your eyes, those sparkles came,
That have kindled all this flame,
What bootes it me, though now you shrowde
Those fierce Comets in a cloude?
Since all the flames that I have felt,
Could your snow yet never melt,
Nor, can your snow (though you should take
Alpes into your bosome) slake
The heate of my enamour'd heart;
But with wonder learne Loves art:
No seaes of yce can coole desire,
Equall flames must quench Loves fire:
Then thinke not that my heat can dye,
Till you burne aswell as I.
Poems | ||