 | Anne Evans: Poems and Music |  |
37
THE BLEW-EY'D LADIE.
My Ladie's Eyes are blew and brighte,
iff these of mine doe see arighte;
My Ladie's Hand doth seeme to me
soe white as whyter scarce could bee.
Yet naught recke I of azure Blew
in Eies that speake and speake so trew;
To me those Wordes the Hande hath writ
show fairer far than itt.
iff these of mine doe see arighte;
My Ladie's Hand doth seeme to me
soe white as whyter scarce could bee.
Yet naught recke I of azure Blew
in Eies that speake and speake so trew;
To me those Wordes the Hande hath writ
show fairer far than itt.
The Spring may decke in braver Dye
eche short-lived Budd and Butterflie;
My Ladie's worth I can not tell
by fleeting Hews which these excell.
Who hath the Witte a Booke to read
its costlie Guise doth slightly heede,
When he in everie Leafe can finde
wherewith to charm the Minde!
eche short-lived Budd and Butterflie;
My Ladie's worth I can not tell
by fleeting Hews which these excell.
Who hath the Witte a Booke to read
its costlie Guise doth slightly heede,
When he in everie Leafe can finde
wherewith to charm the Minde!
| Anne Evans: Poems and Music | |