Songes and Sonettes | ||
wiat being in prison, to Brian.
Syghes are my foode: my drink are my teares.Clinkyng of fetrers would such Musick craue,
Stink, and close ayer away my life it weares.
Pore innocence is all the hope, I haue.
Rayn, winde, or wether iudge I by mine eares.
Malice assaultes, that righteousnesse should haue.
Sure am I, Brian, this wound shall heale again:
But yet alas, the skarre shall still remayn.
Songes and Sonettes | ||