Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Sir Robert Ayton. 15701638182. To His Forsaken Mistress
I DO confess thou’rt smooth and fair, | |
And I might have gone near to love thee, | |
Had I not found the slightest prayer | |
That lips could move, had power to move thee; | |
But I can let thee now alone | 5 |
As worthy to be loved by none. | |
I do confess thou’rt sweet; yet find | |
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, | |
Thy favours are but like the wind | |
That kisseth everything it meets: | 10 |
And since thou canst with more than one, | |
Thou’rt worthy to be kiss’d by none. | |
The morning rose that untouch’d stands | |
Arm’d with her briers, how sweet she smells! | |
But pluck’d and strain’d through ruder hands, | 15 |
Her sweets no longer with her dwells: | |
But scent and beauty both are gone, | |
And leaves fall from her, one by one. | |
Such fate ere long will thee betide | |
When thou hast handled been awhile, | 20 |
With sere flowers to be thrown aside; | |
And I shall sigh, while some will smile, | |
To see thy love to every one | |
Hath brought thee to be loved by none. |