 | Poems (1914) |  |
Sonetto. 7.
[Marching in the plaine field of my conceyte]
Marching in the plaine field of my conceyte,I might behold a tent which was at rest,
My forces I did bend but ah deceite:
There left I freedome last which is now least.
For when I thought to fight with Mars for best,
There Cupid was which brought me to distresse,
Of foe when I thought to make a conquest,
Loûe and desire in tent did me oppresse.
These captaines twaine from tormēt may surcease,
If they did know the lore I beare in minde,
They may as Turtles one procure thy ease,
O that to me of twaine one would be kinde.
Thou tēt that holdst in night such turtle doûes,
Reioice, embrace the twayne of world the loûes.
| Poems (1914) | |