Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/78

 She is neither white nor brown, But as the heavens fair; There is none hath her form divine In the earth or the air.

Such a one did I meet, good sir, Such an angelic face, Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appear In her gait, in her grace.

She hath left me here alone All alone, as unknown, Who sometime did me lead with herself, And me loved as her own.

What's the cause that she leaves you alone And a new way doth take, That sometime did love you as her own, And her joy did you make?

I have loved her all my youth, But now am old, as you see: Love likes not the falling fruit, Nor the withered tree.

Know that Love is a careless child, And forgets promise past: He is blind, he is deaf when he list, And in faith never fast.

His desire is a dureless content, And a trustless joy; He is won with a world of despair, And is lost with a toy.