Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/306

 She sees no tears, Or any tone Of thy deep groan She hears:

Nor does she mind Or think on't now That ever thou Wast kind;

But changed above, She likes not there, As she did here, Thy love.

Forbear therefore, And lull asleep Thy woes, and weep No more.

270. To Meadows

Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill'd with flowers, And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours.

You have beheld how they With wicker arks did come To kiss and bear away The richer cowslips home.

You've heard them sweetly sing, And seen them in a round: Each virgin like a spring, With honeysuckles crown'd.