Thus saith my Cloris bright
Thus saith my Cloris bright,
when we of Love sit downe and talke together,
Beware of Love, deere, Love is a walking sprite,
And Love is this and that,
And O I wot not what,
And comes and goes againe,
I wot not whither,
No, no, these are but bugs to breed amazing,
for in her eies I saw his torch light blazing.
poem by John Wilbye
Added by Poetry Lover
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