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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,
To die with thee again in sweetest sympathy.
Come again that I may cease to mourn,
Through thy unkind disdain,
For now left and forlorn:
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die,
In deadly pain, and endless misery.
All the day the sun that lends me shine,
By frowns do cause me pine,
And feeds me with delay:
Her smiles, my springs, that makes my joys to grow,
Her frowns the winters of my woe:
All the night, my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams,
My heart takes no delight:
To see the fruits and joys that some do find,
And mark the storms are me assign'd,
Out alas, my faith is ever true,
Yet will she never rue,
Nor yield me any grace:
Her eyes of fire, her heart of flint is made,
Whom tears nor truth may once invade.
Gentle love draw forth thy wounding dart,
Thou canst not pierce her heart,
For I that do approve:
By sighs and tears more hot then are thy shafts:
Did tempt while she for triumph laughs.
Thy graces that refrain,
To do me due delight:
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die,
To die with thee again in sweetest sympathy.
Come again that I may cease to mourn,
Through thy unkind disdain,
For now left and forlorn:
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die,
In deadly pain, and endless misery.
All the day the sun that lends me shine,
By frowns do cause me pine,
And feeds me with delay:
Her smiles, my springs, that makes my joys to grow,
Her frowns the winters of my woe:
All the night, my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams,
My heart takes no delight:
To see the fruits and joys that some do find,
And mark the storms are me assign'd,
Out alas, my faith is ever true,
Yet will she never rue,
Nor yield me any grace:
Her eyes of fire, her heart of flint is made,
Whom tears nor truth may once invade.
Gentle love draw forth thy wounding dart,
Thou canst not pierce her heart,
For I that do approve:
By sighs and tears more hot then are thy shafts:
Did tempt while she for triumph laughs.
Lyrics submitted by Phonophobe
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yo yo YO DOWLAND in da HOUSE, y'all
my boy Johnnie D gots that Elizabethan lute goin ON...dang
Catholic court lutanist sizzle 2 da shizzle y'all
God bless our Gracious Bess and the Armada as well.
connecthook.wordpress.com/tag/john-dowland/
I thank you, kind sir, for your most gracious comment. As a token of my gratitude I have voted up your musings on dwarfs.<br /> <br /> JD
@NomadMonad <br /> Phonophobe I hail you from the fragrant vales of Greater Virginia from whence I wince upon recalling the white rose of beauty which is the face of our Sovereign Gloriana.