Tixall Poetry/The Broken Hart

by unknown author

XXVI.

The Broken Hart.

 

---

 

As I walkt forth one summers day,
To view the mead owes greene and gay,
A pleasant bower I espied,
Standing close by a rivers side,
And in't a maiden I heard cry,
Alas! alas! none ere did love like I.

Then round the meadow did she walke,
Catching each flower by the stalke,
Such flowers as in the meadowes grew,
The dead mans thumbe of azure blew;
And as shee pluckt them up, cries shee,
Alas! alas! none ere did love like mee.

When she had fild her apron full
Of such green things as she could cull,
The green leaves serv'd her for her bed,
The flowers were pillowes for her head,
Then downe she lay, nere more did speake,
With love, alas! alas! her hart did breake.

 

---

---