With hope extinct and brow composed
I mark'd the present die;
Its term of life was nearly closed,
Yet it had more than I.
With hope extinct and brow composed
I mark'd the present die;
Its term of life was nearly closed,
Yet it had more than I.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but, for my part,
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him;
For what had he to do to chide at me?
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Beauty sat with me all the summer day, Awaiting the sure triumph of her eye Nor mark'd I till we parted, how, hard by, Love in her train stood ready for his prey.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories