 | The Poems and Sonnets of Henry Constable |  |
lxiii
[Wonder it is, and pittie is't that shee]
Wonder it is, and pittie is't that shee
In whom all beauty's treasure we may finde
That may enritch the body and the mind,
Towards the poore should use no charitie.
In whom all beauty's treasure we may finde
That may enritch the body and the mind,
Towards the poore should use no charitie.
My love is gone a begging unto thee;
And if that Beauty had not beene more kind
Then pittie, long ere this he had beene pinde;
But Beautie is content his foode to bee.
And if that Beauty had not beene more kind
Then pittie, long ere this he had beene pinde;
But Beautie is content his foode to bee.
Oh, pittie have, when such poore Orphans beg:
Love (naked boy) hath nothing on his backe,
And though he wanteth neither arme or leg,
Yet maim'd he is, sith he his sight doth lacke;
And yet (though blinde) he beautie can behold;
And yet (though nak'd) he feeles more heate than cold.
Love (naked boy) hath nothing on his backe,
And though he wanteth neither arme or leg,
Yet maim'd he is, sith he his sight doth lacke;
And yet (though blinde) he beautie can behold;
And yet (though nak'd) he feeles more heate than cold.
| The Poems and Sonnets of Henry Constable | |