Looke Mistresse mine within this hollow brest, See heere inclosd a tombe of tender skin, Wherin fast lockt is framd a Phenix nest, That saue your selfe, there is no passage in. Witnesse the wound that through your dart doth bleed, And craues your cure, since you haue done the deed. Wherefore most rare and Phenix rarely fine, Behould once more the harmes I do possesse : Regard the hart that through your fault doth pine, Attending rest yet findeth no redresse. For end, waue wings and set your nest on fire, Or pittie mee, and grant my sweet desire.
Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer