John Wilbye Poems
Love Not Me For Comely Grace
Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face;
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart:
For those may fail or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever.
Keep therefore a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why;
So hast thou the same reason still
To doat upon me ever.
As Fair As Morn
As fair as morn, as fresh as May,
a pretty grace in saying nay,
Smil'st thou sweetheart?
then sing and say, Ta na na no,
But O! that love enchanting eye,
Lo, here my doubtful doom I try,
Tell me my sweet, live I or die?
She smiles, fa la la la,
Ah, she frowns, Ay me, I die.