To His Forsaken Mistress

Sir Robert Ayton

1570 to 1638

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    Her sweets no longer with her dwells:
Had I not found the slightest prayer
And leaves fall from her, one by one.
As worthy to be loved by none.
Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.
Such fate ere long will thee betide
But scent and beauty both are gone,
To see thy love to every one
Thy favours are but like the wind
    That kisseth everything it meets:
    When thou hast handled been awhile,
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
    That lips could move, had power to move thee;
    And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
    Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
    Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells!
And since thou canst with more than one,
With sere flowers to be thrown aside;
But I can let thee now alone
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.
I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find
The morning rose that untouch'd stands
    And I might have gone near to love thee,
I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair,