91 - Poem by Mary Wroth
Sweet, let me enjoy thy sight
More cleare, more bright then morning Sun,
Which in Spring-time giues delight
And by which Summers pride is wun.
Present sight doth pleasures move
Which in sad absence we must misse:
But when met againe in love,
Then twice redoubled is our blisse.
Yet this comfort absence giues,
And only faithfull louing tries,
That though parted, Loves force liues
As just in heart, as in our eyes:
But such comfort banish quite,
Farre sweeter is it, still to finde
Favour in thy loved sight,
Which present smiles with joyes combind.
Eyes of gladnesse, lipps of Love,
And hearts from passion not to turne,
But in sweet affections mooue,
In flames of Faith to live, and burne.
Dearest then, this kindnesse give,
And grant me life, which is your sight,
Wherein I more blessed live,
Then graced with the Sunnes faire light.
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