Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/499

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One throws milk on my clothes, T'other plays with my nose; What wanting signs are those? Phillada flouts me'

I cannot work nor sleep

At all in season: Love wounds my heart so deep

Without all reason. I 'gin to pine away

In my love's shadow, Like as a fat beast may,

Penn'd in a meadow. I shall be dead, I fear, Within this thousand year: And all for that my dear

Phillada flouts me.

403 Suspiria

WOULD I were where I would be' There would I be where I am not* For where I am would I not be, And where I would be I can not.



Chloris in the Snow

I SAW fair Chloris walk alone, When feather'd ram came softly down, As Jove descending from his Tower To court her in a silver shower.

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