 | Poems (1872) |  |
MY HEART.
Thou sent'st to me a hart was sound,
I tooke it to be thine;
But when I saw it had a wound,
I knew that hart was myne.
I tooke it to be thine;
But when I saw it had a wound,
I knew that hart was myne.
A bountie of a stronge conceit,
To send myne owne to mee,
And send it in a worse estate
Then when it came to thee.
To send myne owne to mee,
And send it in a worse estate
Then when it came to thee.
The hart I sent thee had no stayne,
It was entyre and sound;
But thou hast sent it back againe
Sicke of a deadly wound.
It was entyre and sound;
But thou hast sent it back againe
Sicke of a deadly wound.
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Oh heavens, how woldst thou use a hart
That should rebellyous bee,
Since thou hast slayne myne with a dart
That soe much honorde thee!
That should rebellyous bee,
Since thou hast slayne myne with a dart
That soe much honorde thee!
| Poems (1872) | |