Come again,
Sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain
To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die
With thee in sweetest sympathy.
Come again,
That I may cease to mourn
Through thy unkind disdain;
For now left and forlorn,
I see, I sight, I weep, I faint, I die
In deadly pain and endless misery.
Gentle love,
Draw forth thy wounding dart;
Thou canst not pierce her heart,
For I that to approve,
By sighs and tears more hot than are thy shafts
Did tempt, while she for triumph laughs.
--Anonymous, XVIth Century.
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