Poetry Collection

88

For fairer are the dayes of heaven, which are to come hereafter."Then she began againe. "Now I beginne in my turne as thou dost,With nought but thine owne dewtie, yet when all things shall be over,Thou shalt give me leave to goe hence into thy garden:And though that life do end with mine, this fruit shall last for evermore."At these words she did depart without anie further answer,For her lustrous eye was rapt before his face therewithall;The floryour sprong up apace on every side about him,Which he beholding, forthrightly fell from so great height;His hart aswell brake with admiration of the same sight,As were the rose tree by her shroude shorne, and set abroade in light.Oftentimes he faine would chaunge his minde, to try if that it might not dye;But too late he found, the earth will fast her owne. In deed ther's no secrec'ty.