Darkseed The Bolt Of Cupid Fell
When fourty nights shall beside you brow and dig deep wounds in your beauty now Your youth's proud livery so gazed on me tomorrow will be darkened sealed Look how a bird lies tangeled in a net Pure shame and awed resistance made him fred So fastened in her arms the favoured lies She found more beauty in his varied eyes Cut is the brunch that might be grown with you faith, the treasure of your lusty days Then being asked where all your beauty lies I say it to your deep-sunken eyes "As if the dead the living should exceed possessed by heavens heart and hand" He burns with basful shame She with her tears does quench the maiden burning off her cheeks Then with her windy sighs and golden hands to fain and blow them dry again she seeks Look how a painter would surpass his life His art with nature's workmanship at strife In limmming out a well-proportioned steed as if the dead the living should exceed
