There is a thing that nothing is,
A foolish wanton, sober wise;
It hath noe wings, noe eyes, noe eares,
And yet it flies, it sees, it heares;
It lives by losse, it feeds on smart,
It joyes in woe, it liveth not;
Yet evermore this hungry elfe
Doth feed on nothing but itselfe.
On Jealousy
William Strode
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Poem topics: smart, wise, feed, foolish, hungry, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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