THOU art to all lost love the best, The only true plant found, Wherewith young men and maids distrest, And left of love, are crown'd. When once the lover's rose is dead, Or laid aside forlorn: Then willow-garlands 'bout the head Bedew'd with tears are worn. When with neglect, the lovers' bane, Poor maids rewarded be For their love lost, their only gain Is but a wreath from thee. And underneath thy cooling shade, When weary of the light, The love-spent youth and love-sick maid Come to weep out the night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO MASTER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES STABAT MATER DOLOROSA by JACOPONE DA TODI SONNET PREFIXED TO 'NENNIO, OR A TREATISE OF NOBILITY' by EDMUND SPENSER MARY MAGDALEN by BARTOLOME LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA |