It was simple what walks it may,
Entail none wait, as heart so fair,
But I am known to fear little,
Though tender tears mine eyes how red,
Is subtle drop that flows to sea,
That ye call gods cry less too few,
Such is their weep we call the sea,
I’d rather daring splendour boast,
Ere risks be shook, her hearth be took,
The brought that bought to what life got,
Wanton of things what price to pay,
Boon to know is what best be known,
A little forward no time is still,
At last the crazed and viewed so dark
Deals in mem’ry that casts away,
Walks is the shepherd with theory;
Explains to have-nots the game of haves,
Nor law is spelt nor tricks to feel,
For bore is smelt with gold to reel,
Had it been shown well how easy,
Then no man would revolt hither,
This is what the shepherd teaches,
But no sheep knew nor heard to reach.

Category:
Life, Mysterious, Poetry, Works
Tags:
, , , ,
%d bloggers like this: