A Poem
When I to you of all my woes complain,
Which you make me endure without release;
With scornful smiles you answer me again,
“That lovers true must bear and hold their peace.”
Dear, I will bear, and hold my peace, if you
Will hold your peace, and bear what I shall do.
Which you make me endure without release;
With scornful smiles you answer me again,
“That lovers true must bear and hold their peace.”
Dear, I will bear, and hold my peace, if you
Will hold your peace, and bear what I shall do.
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