A DAY OF LOVE
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hose envied places which do know her well,And are so scornful of this lonely place,Even now for once are emptied of her grace:Nowhere but here she is: and while Love's spellFrom his predominant presence doth compelAll alien hours, an outworn populace,The hours of Love fill full the echoing spaceWith sweet confederate music favourable. Now many memories make solicitousThe delicate love-lines of her mouth, till, litWith quivering fire, the words take wing from it;As here between our kisses we sit thusSpeaking of things remembered, and so sitSpeechless while things forgotten call to us.
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