Lily
9
From Caelica, Sonnet 34 by Fulke Greville
chosen by Elise
Cupid, my little Boy, come home againe,
I doe not blame thee for thy running hence,
Where thou found'st nothing but Desire’s paine.
Jealousie, with selfe-unworthiness, offence.
Alas, I cannot. Sir, I am made lame;
I light no sooner in sweet Myra's eyes;
Whence I thought joy and pleasure took their name,
But my right wing of wanton passion dyes.
And I, poor child, am here in stead of play,
So whip’d and scourg’d with Modestie and Truth,
As having lost all hope to scape away,
I yet take pleasure to 'tice hither youth ;
That my schoole-fellows plagu’d aswell as I
May not make merry when they heare me cry.