Pine, Rose and Fleur de Lis

by Susie Frances Harrison


 

OF YE HEARTE'S DESIRE


 

Wythe some it is shippes and golde;
       Wythe some it is palaces faire;
Wythe some it is blossoms that folde
       Theire beautie away fromme the aire;
Wythe some it is castles in Spaine,
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       That tower through a rosie cloude;
Wythe some it is visions of paine
       That compass them here like a shroud.

Wythe others ’tis feasting and fun,
       The thyng they call “lyfe,” no doubt;

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Wythe some it is fame well-done
       And garnished with puffes about;
Wythe some it is places highe;
       Wythe some it is stockes and shares;
Wythe others ’tis kites to flie;
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       Wythe some it is fancie faires.

Wythe some it is grace to walk
       Through lyfe aright to the grave;
Wythe some it is yearning to talk
       Wythe the friend beyond the wave;

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Wythe some ’tis to make new friends,
       Wythe others to keep but one;
Wythe some ’tis to make both ends
       Meet as they never have done.

None of these wyshes are myne.

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       Lovers who guess my plight,
Reading between each lyne
       Lo, ye have guessed aright!
Only my hearte’s desire—
       To feel that my love forgives,
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That his hearte will never tire
       Of loving me while he lives!