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Wooing Song by Giles Fletcher |
Love is the blossom where there blows
Every thing that lives or grows;
Love doth make the Heav'ns to move,
And the Sun doth burn in love:
Love the strong and weak doth yoke,
And makes the ivy climb the oak,
Under whose shadows lions wild,
Soften'd by love, grow tame and mild:
Love no med'cine can appease,
He burns the fishes in the seas:
Not all the skill his wounds can stench,
Not all the sea his fire can quench.
Love did make the bloody spear
Once a leavy coat to wear,
While in his leaves there shrouded lay
Sweet birds, for love that sing and play
And of all love's joyful flame
I the bud and blossom am
...Only bend thy knee to me,
...Thy wooing shall thy winning be. .....from Wooing Song by Giles Fletcher (c.1588-1623)
Daily Romantic Poetry More Archived Love Poems: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Friday, 19-Mar-2010 23:52:12 GMT | 
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