26 Poem by Mary Wroth

When every one to pleasing pastime hies
Some hunt, some hawke, some play, while some delight
In sweet discourse, and musicke shewes joys might:
Yet I my thoughts doe farr above these prize.
The joy which I take is, that free from eyes
I sit and wonder at this day-like night,
So to dispose themselves as voyd of right,
And leave true pleasure for poore vanities.
When others hunt, my thoughts I have in chase;
If hawke, my minde at wished end doth flye:
Discourse, I with my spirit talke and cry;
While others musicke choose as greatest grace.
O God say I, can thes fond pleasures move,
Or musicke bee but in sweet thoughts of Love?