What needeth all this travail and turmoiling
Shortening the life's pleasure
To seek this far-fetched treasure
In those hot climates under Phoebus broiling?
More verses by John Wilbye
- Thus Saith My Cloris Bright
- Happy, O Happy He
- Fly, Love, Aloft
- Alas What Hope Of Speeding
- As Fair As Morn