The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 43

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
For works with similar titles, see Madrigal.



My thoughts hold mortal strife;
I do detest my life,
And with lamenting cries
Peace to my soul to bring
Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize:
—But he, grim grinning King,
Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprize,
Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb.
Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.
W. Drummond