by Robert Herrick

FOLD now the arms and hang the head,
Like to a lily withered ;
Next look thou like a sickly moon,
Or like Jocasta in a swoon.
Then weep and sigh and softly go,
Like to a widow drown'd in woe,
Or like a virgin full of ruth
For the lost sweetheart of her youth ;
And all because, fair maid, thou art
Insensible of all my smart,
And of those evil days that be
Now posting on to punish thee.
The gos are easy, and condemn
All such as are not soft like them.

Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol I.
Alfred Pollard, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 56.

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