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THOMAS LODGE, M. D.
My bonny lass! thine eye. [Phoenix Nest.]
My Bonny lass! thine eye,
So sly,
Hath made me sorrow so.
Thy crimson cheeks, my Dear!
So clear,
Have so much wrought my woe.
Thy pleasing smiles and grace,
Thy face,
Have ravished so my sprites;
That life is grown to nought,
Through thought
Of love, which me affrights.
For fancy's flames of fire
Aspire
Unto such furious power:
As but the tears I shed
Make dead,
The brands would me devour.
