Despiteful thus unto myself, I languish,
And in disdain, myself from joy I banish,
These secret thoughts enwrap me so in anguish,
That life, I hope. will soon from body vanish;
And to some rest will quickly be conveyed,
That on no joy, while so I liv’d, hath stayed.
More verses by John Wilbye
- Cruel, Behold My Heavy Ending
- Flora Gave Me Fairest Flowers
- Ah! Cannot Sighs Not Tears
- As Matchless Beauty
- Adieu Sweet Amaryllis