Lady, your words do spite me,
Yet your sweet lips, so soft, kiss and delight me,
Your deeds my heart surcharg'd with overjoying,
Your taunts my life destroying.
Since both have force to spill me,
let kisses sweet, Sweet, kill me.
Knights fight with swords and lances,
Fight you with smiling glances,
So, like swans of Leander,
My ghost from hence shall wander,
singing and dying.
(C) John Wilbye
04/02/2017
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