(no subject)
At her fair hands how have I grace entreated
With prayers oft repeated!
Yet still my love is thwarted:
Heart, let her go, for she'll not be converted
Say, shall she go? O no, no, no!
She is most fair, though she be marble-hearted.
How often have my sighs declared my anguish,
Wherein I daily languish!
Yet still she doth procure it:
Heart, let her go, for I cannot endure it
Say, shall she go? O no, no, no!
She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it.
With prayers oft repeated!
Yet still my love is thwarted:
Heart, let her go, for she'll not be converted
Say, shall she go? O no, no, no!
She is most fair, though she be marble-hearted.
How often have my sighs declared my anguish,
Wherein I daily languish!
Yet still she doth procure it:
Heart, let her go, for I cannot endure it
Say, shall she go? O no, no, no!
She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it.