Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 2, 24
No sooner doo I earnest fix mine eyes
On my faire Sunne, but that I her perceave
To vanish like a clowd in darkest wise,
As if (eclypst) her light it did bereave:
I know not if shee's troubled thus, because
She doth disdaine I should behold her so;
Or if for feare this shadow to her drawes,
Least mee her beames should hurt, which glistring show.
Say then sweet Love (for thou knowst best) if still
I shall behold her, or no more, thou will.
On my faire Sunne, but that I her perceave
To vanish like a clowd in darkest wise,
As if (eclypst) her light it did bereave:
I know not if shee's troubled thus, because
She doth disdaine I should behold her so;
Or if for feare this shadow to her drawes,
Least mee her beames should hurt, which glistring show.
Say then sweet Love (for thou knowst best) if still
I shall behold her, or no more, thou will.
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