Mary Wroth Poems

Love like a Jugler, comes to play his prize,
And all mindes draw his wonders to admire,
To see how cunningly he (wanting eyes)
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Time only cause of my unrest,
By whom I hop'd once to be blest,
How cruell art thou turn'd?
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How fast thou fliest, O time, on loves swift wings,
To hopes of joy, that flatters our desire:
Which to a Lover still contentment brings;
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Night, welcome art thou to my minde distrest,
Darke, heavy, sad, yet not more sad then I:
Never could'st thou find fitter company
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He may our Prophett, and our Tutor proove,
In whom alone we doe this power finde,
To joine two hearts as in one frame to moove
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Ledd by the power of griefe to wailings brought,
By false conceit of change fallen on my part;
I seeke for some smale ease by lines which bought,
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The Spring time of my first loving,
Finds yet no winter of removing;
Nor frosts to make my hopes decrease:
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An end fond Jelousie, alas I know
Thy hiddenest, and thy most secret Art,
Thou canst no new invention frame but part,
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Sweet, let me enjoy thy sight
More cleare, more bright then morning Sun,
Which in Spring-time giues delight
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Sweet Siluia in a shady wood,
With her faire Nimphs layd downe,
Saw not farre off where Cupid stood,
The Monarch of Loves Crowne,
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