Mary Wroth

(1587-1651 / England)

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14 (Song 2)

All Night I weepe, all Day I cry, Ay me,
I still doe wish, though yet deny, ay me;
I sigh, I mourne, I say that still,
I only am the store for ill, ay me.

In coldest hopes I freeze, yet burne, ay me,
From flames I strive to fly, yet turne, ay me:
From griefe I hast, but sorrowes hye,
And on my heart all woes do lye, ay me.

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