Can I chuse
But refuce
All thought of mourning,
Now I see
Thus close by me
My love returning?
If I should not joy
When I behould
Such glory shining,
Sith her tyme of stay
Made me to decay
With sorrow pining,
Silly birds might seem
To laugh at me,
Which, at day peering,
With a merry voyce
Sing “O doo rejoyce!”
Themselves still cheering.
Absence darke
Thou dost marke,
No cause but fearing,
And like night
Turnst thy sight
All into hearing |
العرض الشجري
