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Tixall Poetry.
I bleed, I bleed, I melt away,
And wash my watry pillow;
I walke the woods alone all day,
And wrap me round in willow.
And wash my watry pillow;
I walke the woods alone all day,
And wrap me round in willow.
XLI.
A Storme.
Harke, harke, the storme growes loud,
The daies wrapt up in a sullen cloud:
Harke, harke, the tempest sings
The sea mens dirge, and flings
The fatall waves to fatall shors,
While round the ship the billow roars;
And those that never praid before,
Cal now upon some unknown power.
Harke, harke, the tackling iustle,
The sea men bustle;
Cracke, cracke, down goes the maine mast downe,
Harke how they grone!
The daies wrapt up in a sullen cloud:
Harke, harke, the tempest sings
The sea mens dirge, and flings
The fatall waves to fatall shors,
While round the ship the billow roars;
And those that never praid before,
Cal now upon some unknown power.
Harke, harke, the tackling iustle,
The sea men bustle;
Cracke, cracke, down goes the maine mast downe,
Harke how they grone!
