LOVE is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.
Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
Heigh ho!
Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full nor fasting.
Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
Heigh ho!
Sometimes the simplicity of the message is enough to speak volumes. A sumptuously apt work that I agree concurrently.
One of the best poems by Samuel Daniel.......................
A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using. Cannot imagine a better simile then that for defining the magnitude of loves woes.
More we enjoy it, more it dies; If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries- Heigh ho! a different view of a love experience. tony
From Hymen's Triumph Act I The song of the first Chorus (right at the end)