 | Poems by Robert Gomersall |  |
Now both the Hoasts themselves so neere do find,
That it would aske more labour t'have declin'd
The field, then to have wonne it, yet they stay
Hoping that innocence is in delay,
If they are slowly guilty: now speares flye
Shiver'd in thousand fitters to the skye;
And whether it revenge or fortune were,
Every peece becomes a Murtherer.
And from their bodies frees a many soule,
Doing that broken, which they could not whole.
That it would aske more labour t'have declin'd
The field, then to have wonne it, yet they stay
Hoping that innocence is in delay,
If they are slowly guilty: now speares flye
Shiver'd in thousand fitters to the skye;
And whether it revenge or fortune were,
Every peece becomes a Murtherer.
And from their bodies frees a many soule,
Doing that broken, which they could not whole.
| Poems by Robert Gomersall | |