I am quite tired with my groans
I am quite tired with my groans;
O'ercharged with a heavy load
Of miseries, breaking all my bones,
Laid on me justly by my God.
poem by John Wilbye
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Weep, O mine eyes
Weep, O mine eyes and cease not,
Out alas, these your spring tides methinks increase not.
O when begin you
to swell so high that I may drown me in you?
poem by John Wilbye
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What needeth all this travail?
What needeth all this travail and turmoiling
Shortening the life's pleasure
To seek this far-fetched treasure
In those hot climates under Phoebus broiling?
poem by John Wilbye
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O God, the rock of my whole strength
O God, the rock of my whole strength,
Let thy sweet mercy soothe mine anguish;
And grant me help, O Lord, at length,
Lest that I faint, despair, and languish.
poem by John Wilbye
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And though my love abounding
And though my love abounding,
Did make me fall a sounding,
Yet am I well contented,
Still so to be tormented,
And death can never fear me,
As long as you are near me.
poem by John Wilbye
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I always beg
I always beg, yet never am relieved,
I grieve, because my griefs are not believed.
I cry aloud in vain, my voice outstretched,
And get but this, mine echo calls me wretched!
poem by John Wilbye
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As matchless beauty
As matchless beauty thee a Phoenix proves,
Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet loves.
For when young Acon's eye thy proud heart tames,
Thou diest in him, and livest in my flames.
poem by John Wilbye
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Adieu sweet amaryllis
Adieu, adieu
sweet amaryllis.
For since to part your will is.
O heavy tiding
Here is for me no biding.
Yet once again
Ere that I part with you.
Amaryllis, amaryllis,
sweet Adieu.
poem by John Wilbye
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Yet, sweet, take heed
Yet, sweet, take heed, all sweets are hard to get;
Sting not her soft lips, Oh beware of that:
For if one flaming dart come from her eye,
Was never dart so sharp, ah, then you die!
poem by John Wilbye
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Thus love commands
Thus love commands, that I in vain complain me,
And sorrow will that she shall still disdain me:
Yet did I hope, which hope my life prolonged,
To hear her say, alas! His love was wronged.
poem by John Wilbye
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