Thisbe's Song - Poem by Abraham Cowley
Come, love, why stay'st thou? The night
Will vanish ere wee taste delight.
The moone obscures her selfe from sight,
Thou absent, whose eyes give her light.
Come quickly deare, be briefe as time,
Or we by morne shall be o'retane,
Love's Joy's thing owne as well as mine,
Spend not therefore, time in vaine.
Comments about Thisbe's Song by Abraham Cowley
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You