Ay me; can every rumour
Thus start my lady's humour?
Name ye some gallant to her
Why straight forsooth I woo her.
Then burst she forth in passion:
You men love but for fashion.
Yet sure I am that no man
Ever so loved woman.
Yet, alas, Love, be wary
For women be contrary.

(C) John Wilbye
03/11/2017


Best Poems of John Wilbye

• Happy, O Happy He
• The Lady Oriana
• Fly, Love, Aloft
• I Always Beg
• Thus Saith My Cloris Bright
• O Wretched Man!
• Ong Have I Made These Hills And Valleys Weary
• I Love, Alas! Yet Am Not Loved
• Ah! Cannot Sighs Not Tears
• What Needeth All This Travail?
• Thou Art But Young, Thou Say-st
• Dear Pity, How, Ah!
• A Silly Sylvan, Kissing Heavn-born Fire
• When Shall My Wretched Life
• Alas! What A Wretched Life Is This!
• As Matchless Beauty
• Away, Thou Shalt Not Love Me
• O Fools! Can You Not See
• There Is A Jewel
• I Sung Sometimes
• Lady, When I Behold The Roses Sprouting