Anonymous

HOW many new years have grown old

Since first your servant old was new;

How many long hours have I told

Since first my love was vowed to you;

And yet, alas, she does not know

Whether her servant love or no.

How many walls as white as snow,

And windows clear as any glass,

Have I conjured to tell you so,

Which faithfully performèd was;

And yet you’ll swear you do not know

Whether your servant love or no.

How often hath my pale, lean face,

With true characters of my love,

Petitionèd to you for grace,

Whom neither sighs nor tears can move;

O cruel, yet do you not know

Whether your servant love or no.

And wanting oft a better token,

I have been fain to send my heart,

Which now your cold disdain hath broken,

Nor can you heal’t by any art:

O look upon’t, and you shall know

Whether your servant love or no.