Francis Kynaston Poems
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Of The Rainy Weather In England, And The Faire In Scotland.
Twice hath bright Cynthia wan'd, twice fill'd her round,
Since England with continuall raine lies drownd;
While Spring here winters, Scotland doth behold
Dayes without cloudes, skies azure, Sunnes of gold.
Thus whiles the King from Thames to Tweed doth goe,
One Kingdome smiles, the other weepes for woe.
England Of Her Selfe
VVhile towards the North the King his course doth steare,
I was neere drownd in griefe with many a teare,
Now hee is going, griefe doth stint those showres,
For greater then teares is this griefe of ours.