If streames of teares could lessen extreame griefe,
Or cause a minutes truce to woe,
If deepest sighes, sad plants might yeeld reliefe,
These sorrowes to forgoe,
Myne eyes, my heart, my tongue should neare refraine to weepe,
To sigh and to complaine,
But sorrowe such impression left,
Of light of speech, it mee berest,
Onely to sigh is left to mee,
In this my greatest miserie.
Close
Back to song texts
Online text copyright © Harald Lillmeyer
www.harald-lillmeyer.kulturserver.de