William Alexander

(1567-1640 / Scotland)

Sonet 100 - Poem by William Alexander

All that behold me on thy beauties shelfe,
To cast my selfe away toss'd with conceit,
Since thou wilt haue no pitie of my state,
Would that I tooke some pitie of my selfe:
For what, say they, though she disdaine to bow,
And takes a pleasure for to see thee sad,
Yet there be many a one that would be glad,
To bost themselves of such a one as thou.
But ah their counsell of small knowledge sauours,
For O poore fooles, they see not what I see,
Thy frownes are sweeter then their smiles can be,
The worst of thy disdaines worth all their fauours:
I rather (deare) of thine one looke to haue,
Then of another all that I would craue.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, September 17, 2010



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