John Wilbye

(7 March 1574 - September 1638 / Brome, Suffolk)

Ong Have I Made These Hills And Valleys Weary - Poem by John Wilbye

Long have I made these hills and valleys weary,
With noise of these my shrieks and cries that fill the air;
She only, who should make me merry,
Hears not my prayer:
That I, alas! misfortune’s son and heir,
Hope in none other hope but in despair.
O unkind and cruel! If thus my death may please thee,
Then die I will to ease thee:
Yet if I die, the world will thee control,
And write upon my tomb, O sweet departure,
Lo! here lies one, alas! poor soul,
A true love’s martyr.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 31, 2012



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