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Parthenophil and Parthenophe

Sonnettes, Madrigals, Elegies and Odes [by Barnabe Barnes]

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SONNET LVIII.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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SONNET LVIII.

[Fayre Clytie doth florish with the spring]

Fayre Clytie doth florish with the spring
And eftsoones withered like thy golden heare,
And Ioes vyolettes grow florishing,
But soone defac'd which thine eyes semblance beare:
Anemone, with hyacinthe springs pryde,
Like to thy bewtie loose their louely glosse,
So will thy cheekes with graces bewtified
Returne to wrinckles, and to natures drosse:

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Roses (as from thy lippes) sweet odours send,
Which herbes in them whilst iuyce, and vertues rest,
From some diseases rigour, life defend:
These (as thy selfe) once withred, men detest:
Then loue betimes, these withered flowers of yore
Reuiue: thy bewtie lost returnes no more.