Unkind, O, stay thy flying!
And if I needs must die, pity me dying.
But in thee, my heart is lying
And no death can assail me,
Alas! till life doth fail thee,
Oh therefore, if the fates bid thee be fleeting,
Stay for me, whose poor heart thou hast in keeping.
Unkind, O, Stay Thy Flying!
John Wilbye
(1)
Poem topics: death, life, poor, heart, stay, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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