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862. CROSSES.
Our crosses are no other than the rods,
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.
863. UPON LOVE.
Love brought me to a silent grove
And show'd me there a tree,
Where some had hang'd themselves for love,
And gave a twist to me.
The halter was of silk and gold,
That he reach'd forth unto me;
No otherwise than if he would
By dainty things undo me.
He bade me then that necklace use;
And told me, too, he maketh
A glorious end by such a noose,
His death for love that taketh.
'Twas but a dream; but had I been
There really alone,
My desp'rate fears in love had seen
Mine execution.
And show'd me there a tree,
Where some had hang'd themselves for love,
And gave a twist to me.
The halter was of silk and gold,
That he reach'd forth unto me;
No otherwise than if he would
By dainty things undo me.
He bade me then that necklace use;
And told me, too, he maketh
A glorious end by such a noose,
His death for love that taketh.
'Twas but a dream; but had I been
There really alone,
My desp'rate fears in love had seen
Mine execution.
864. NO DIFFERENCE I' TH' DARK.
Night makes no difference 'twixt the priest and clerk;
Joan as my lady is as good i' th' dark.
Joan as my lady is as good i' th' dark.
