XXV. Gold upon gold, mine only Joy did plate

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

GOLD upon gold, mine only Joy did plate,

Whilst She did dress her head by crystal glass:

But whilst She looked on it, it sudden brake;

So as, amazed thereat, much grieved She was;

To whom I said, “To grieve thus, ’tis in vain:

Since what is broke, whole cannot be again.

Look steadfastly, with both thine eyes on me!

Who have my heart, through love, a glass new made.”

She on my face looked; and herself did see:

Wherewith contented th’roughly, thus She said,

“Most happy I! Since for to dress my head,

For broken glass, of whole one I am sped.”