Why, lovely boy, why fly'st thou me, That languish in these flames for thee? I'm Black, 'tis true; why, so is Night, And Love doth in Dark shades delight. The whole world, do but close thine eye, Will seem to thee as Black as l; Or op't, and see what a Black shade Is by thine own fair body made, That follows thee where ere thou go: Oh, who allow'd would do not so? Let me forever dwell so nigh, And thou shalt need no other shade than I.
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Researcher for this text: John Versmoren
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 89