  HEARS not my Phyllis how the birds Their feathered mates salute? They tell their passion in their words; Must I alone be mute? Phyllis, without frown or smile, Sat and knotted all the while. The god of love in thy bright eyes Does like a tyrant reign; But in thy heart a child he lies, Without his dart or flame. Phyllis without frown or smile, Sat and knotted all the while. So many months in silence past, And yet in raging love, Might well deserve one word at last My passion should approve. Phyllis, without frown or smile, Sat and knotted all the while. Must then your faithful swain expire, And not one look obtain, Which he, to soothe his fond desire, Might pleasantly explain? Phyllis, without frown or smile, Sat and knotted all the while. Sir Charles Sedley. |
|
