Poetry Collection

89

For though she be a fair true Rose, yet by degrees wilt thou destroy her,And by thy course, when thou hast ridd all beautie from her brow,Thou shalt passe but worse then any seruant rosebud doth away.When this well ended, both did long full longlie stay,Till those two spirites did by their weake bodys part againe:But as they parted, one that fell on the ground there did remaine,Which for recompense of love was left there in that desert place."And then he lightly laid his hand upon his litle heart,And gently stroked, and wisely smiled with his visage to behold:His forehead all downe trembling, and his eyes were like the Moone;His breath went lowe, and sighing, he gave his speech into her eare."O thou faire Flower, thou joyfullest spot, I see thee still the same;For thou art brought unto me, out of my owne dewtie's vine,That which I kept most secret close, that ever wouldst be freeFrom all the world, to come to mine owne breast, and lay there so.No eye hath seene thee yet, nor none shall till this body die;