Dear pity, how, ah! how, wouldst thou become her!
That best becometh beauty's best attiring;
Shall my desert deserve no favour from her?
But still to waste myself in deep adminring,
Like him who calls to echo to relieve him,
Still tells and hears the tale, Oh! tale that grieves him.
Dear Pity, How, Ah!
John Wilbye
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Poem topics: beauty, dear, deep, deserve, waste, desert, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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