Treasure Island

Mary Wroth

(1587-1651 / England)

Poems of Mary Wroth

1. [Bee you all pleas'd, your pleasures grieve not me] 9/18/2010
2. [How Glowworme-like the Sun doth now appeare,] 9/18/2010
3. [My Muse now happy lay thy selfe to rest,] 9/18/2010
4. [No time, no roome, no thought, or writing can give rest] 9/18/2010
5. [O That no day would ever more appear] 9/18/2010
6. [The weary Traveller, who tyred, sought] 9/18/2010
7. 12 9/18/2010
8. 13 9/18/2010
9. 14 (Song 2) 9/18/2010
10. 15 9/18/2010
11. 16 9/18/2010
12. 17 9/18/2010
13. 18 9/18/2010
14. 19 9/18/2010
15. 2 9/18/2010
16. 20 9/18/2010
17. 21 (Song 3) 9/18/2010
18. 22 9/18/2010
19. 23 9/18/2010
20. 24 9/18/2010

13

Cloy'd with the torments of a tedious night,
I wish for day; which come, I hope for joy:
When crosse I finde, new tortures to destroy,
My woe-kil'd heart, first hurt by mischiefs might.
Then crye for night, and once more day takes flight.
And brightnesse gone; what rest should heere injoy
Usurped is: Hate will her force imploy;
Night cannot Griefe intombe though blacke as spite.
My thoughts are sad, her face as sad doth seeme;

[Hata Bildir]