27 Poem by Mary Wroth

Once did I heare an aged father say
Unto his sonne, who with attention heares
What Age and wise experience ever cleares
From doubts of feare, or reason to betray.
My Sonn (said hee) behold thy father gray,
I once had as thou hast, fresh tender yeares,
And like thee sported destitute of feares;
But my young faults made me too soone decay.
Love once I did, and like thee, fear'd my Loue,
Led by the hatefull thread of Jelousie,
Striuing to keepe, I lost my liberty,
And gain'd my griefe, which still my sorrowes move.
In time shun this, to love is no offence,
But doubt in Youth, in Age, breeds penitence.