 | Poems |  |
79
Red, and white Roses.
Reade in these Roses, the sad storyOf my hard fate, and your owne glory:
In the White you may discover
The palenesse of a fainting lover:
In the Red, the flames still feeding
On my heart with fresh wounds bleeding.
The White will tell you how I languish,
And the Red expresse my anguish.
The white my innocence displaying,
The Red my martyrdome betraying.
The frownes that on your brow resided.
Have those Roses thus divided.
Oh let your smiles but cleare the weather,
And then they both shall grow together.
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