Poem by Barnabe Googe (Goodge)

* * *

Once musing as I sat,
And candle burning by,  
When all were hushed, I might discern
A simple silly fly,
That flew before mine eyes
With free rejoicing heart,
And here and there with wings did play,
As void of pain and smart.
Sometime by me she sat,
When she had played her fill,
And ever when she rested had,
About she flittered still.
When I perceived her well,
Rejoicing in her place,
O happy fly, quoth I, and eke
O worm in happy case,
Which two of us is best?
I that have reason? No;
But thou that reason art without
And therewith void of woe.
I live, and so dost thou,
But I live all in pain,
And subject am to her, alas,
That makes my grief her gain.
Thou livset, but feelst no grief,
No love doth thee torment;
A happy thing for me it were,
If God were so content,
That thou with pen wert placed here
And I sat in thy place,
Then I should joy, as thou dost now,
And thou shouldst wail thy case.

1. To L. Blundeston
2. At Bonneval

Print

1202 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version