SWEET rois of vertew and of gentilness, Delytsum lily of everie lustynes, Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear, And everie vertew that is wenit dear, Except onlie that ye are mercyless Into your garth this day I did persew; There saw I flowris that fresche were of hew; Baith quhyte and reid most lusty were to seyne, And halesome herbis upon stalkis greene; Yet leaf nor flowr find could I nane of rew. I doubt that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne, Has slain this gentil herb, that of mene; Quhois piteous death dois to my heart sic paine That I would make to plant his root againe, -- So confortand his levis unto me bene. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LULLABY by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON DARWINISM by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON PETER STUYVESANT'S NEW YEAR'S CALL, 1 JAN. 1661 by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE VACANT CAGE (1) by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER THE SCHOOL GIRL by WILLIAM HENRY VENABLE THE SUPPLIANTS: PRAYER FOR DELIVERANCE. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS |