Ye restless thoughts, that harbour discontent,
Cease your assaults and let my heart lament,
And let my tongue have leave to tell my grief,
That she may pity, though not grant relief.
Pity would help, alas, what love hath almost slain,
And salve the wound that fester'd this disdain.
Ye Restless Thoughts
John Wilbye
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Poem topics: grief, heart, grant, tongue, relief, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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