Mary Wroth

(1587-1651 / England)

Mary Wroth Poems

1. [bee You All Pleas'D, Your Pleasures Grieve Not Me] 9/18/2010
2. [no Time, No Roome, No Thought, Or Writing Can Give Rest] 9/18/2010
3. [o That No Day Would Ever More Appear] 9/18/2010
4. 12 9/18/2010
5. 13 9/18/2010
6. 15 9/18/2010
7. 17 9/18/2010
8. 18 9/18/2010
9. 19 9/18/2010
10. 2 9/18/2010
11. 20 9/18/2010
12. 23 9/18/2010
13. 24 9/18/2010
14. 44 9/18/2010
15. 45 9/18/2010
16. 46 9/18/2010
17. 47 9/18/2010
18. 48 9/18/2010
19. 49 (Song 7) 9/18/2010
20. 5 9/18/2010
21. 50 9/18/2010
22. 51 9/18/2010
23. 52 9/18/2010
24. 53 9/18/2010
25. 54 9/18/2010
26. 55 9/18/2010
27. 56 9/18/2010
28. 57 9/18/2010
29. 58 9/18/2010
30. 59 9/18/2010
31. 6 9/18/2010
32. 60 9/18/2010
33. 61 9/18/2010
34. 62 9/18/2010
35. 63 9/18/2010
36. 3 9/18/2010
37. 30 9/18/2010
38. 31 9/18/2010
39. 32 9/18/2010
40. 33 9/18/2010
Best Poem of Mary Wroth

16

Am I thus conquer'd? hame I lost the powers,
That to withstand, which joyes to ruine me?
Must I bee still, while it my strength devoures,
And captive leads me prisoner bound, unfree?
Love first shall leave mens phant'sies to them free,
Desire shall quench loves flames, Spring, hate sweet showres;
Love shall loose all his Darts, have sight, and see
His shame and wishings, hinder happy houres.
Why should we not loves purblinde charmes resist?
Must we be servile, doing what he list?
No, seeke some hoste too harbour thee: I flye
Thy babish tricks, and freedome doe ...

Read the full of 16

12

You endlesse torments that my rest opresse,
How long will you delight in my sad paine?
Will never Love your favour more expresse?
Shall I still live, and euer feele disdaine?
Alasse now stay, and let my griefe obtaine
Some end; feede not my heart with sharpe distresse:
Let me once see my cruell fortunes gaine,
At least release, and long-felt woes redresse.
Let not the blame of cruelty disgrace

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