To His Forsaken Mistress
Sir Robert Ayton
1570 to 1638
Track 1
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To see thy love to every one
I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair,
And I might have gone near to love thee,
The morning rose that untouch'd stands
As worthy to be loved by none.
That lips could move, had power to move thee;
Her sweets no longer with her dwells:
That kisseth everything it meets:
Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells!
Had I not found the slightest prayer
And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find
Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.
And since thou canst with more than one,
Such fate ere long will thee betide
And leaves fall from her, one by one.
But I can let thee now alone
With sere flowers to be thrown aside;
Thy favours are but like the wind
But scent and beauty both are gone,
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
When thou hast handled been awhile,
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.