Lady Mary Wroth

from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 19

Come darkest night, becoming sorrow best;
   Light; leave thy light; fitt for a lightsome soule;
   Darknes doth truly sure with mee oprest
   Whom absence power doth from mirthe controle:
 
The very trees with hanging heads condole
   Sweet sommers parting, and of leaves distrest
   In dying coulers make a griefe-full role;
   Soe much (alas) to sorrow are they prest,
 
Thus of dead leaves her farewell carpett’s made:
   Theyr fall, theyr branches, all theyr mournings prove;
   With leavles, naked bodies, whose huese vade
   From hopefull greene, to wither in theyr love,
 
If trees, and leaves for absence, mourners bee
Noe mervaile that I grieve, who like want see.
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