I prethee turn that face away
Whose splendour but benights my day.
Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts
Shun the bright rayes which beauty darts.
Unwelcome is the Sun that pries
Into those shades where sorrow lies.
Go shine on happy things. To me
That blessing is a miserie:
Whom thy fierce Sun not warmes, but burnes,
Like that the sooty Indian turnes.
Ile serve the night, and there confin’d
Wish thee less fair, or else more kind.
(Henry King)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Sadness Poems, Fairness Poems, Happiness Poems, Lies & Deceit Poems, Blessings PoemsBased on Keywords: turnes, rayes, miserie, pries, burnes, benights, warmes, prethee