Tixall Poetry/Dispaire ("How severe is fate…")

​

XL.

Dispaire.

How severe is fate, to breake a hart That never went a roving;To torture it with endlesse smart, For only constant loving.
​
I bleed, I bleed, I melt away, And wash my watry pillow;I walke the woods alone all day, And wrap me round in willow.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.