07.01.2011, 16:18
William Fowler
1560 - 1612
O nights, nights bot ay a daylye payne!
O dayes, no dayes bot cluddie nights obscure!
O lyfe most lothd, transchangd in deathe againe!
O doole, no doole but certain deathe and suire!
O harte, no harte bot rok and marble dure
Quhair waves of woe with tempest stryketh soare!
O eyes, which ay against my harte conteure!
O teares, no teares bot of salt streames the store!
O heavens, no heavens bot cahos of disglore!
O godds, the guyders of my best hard happ!
O dame, quho dothe depress all reuthe and smore!
O nights, day, lyfe, o doole of deathe the trapp,
O harte, o eyes, o teares, o godds and dame,
Quhen sal her frosts be warmed be my flame?
1560 - 1612
O nights, nights bot ay a daylye payne!
O dayes, no dayes bot cluddie nights obscure!
O lyfe most lothd, transchangd in deathe againe!
O doole, no doole but certain deathe and suire!
O harte, no harte bot rok and marble dure
Quhair waves of woe with tempest stryketh soare!
O eyes, which ay against my harte conteure!
O teares, no teares bot of salt streames the store!
O heavens, no heavens bot cahos of disglore!
O godds, the guyders of my best hard happ!
O dame, quho dothe depress all reuthe and smore!
O nights, day, lyfe, o doole of deathe the trapp,
O harte, o eyes, o teares, o godds and dame,
Quhen sal her frosts be warmed be my flame?