 | Poems (1914) |  |
Sonetto. 18.
[Namelesse the flower that workes my discontent]
Namelesse the flower that workes my discontent,Endlesse the cares for her I doe sustaine,
Waste is the soyle which shadowes my content
Once lende a salue to cure my curelesse paine.
Ah deere, how deere I purchase my delight?
Not longe when first I view'd thy sweetest fayre.
Except thy beauty lend my darknes light,
Long shall that looke my heauie lookes ympayre;
Esteeme of him that liues to honour thee,
Hopes true repose shall then be lodg'd in mee.
| Poems (1914) | |