Poem by Thomas Lodge

Sonnets to Phillis. 13

      Love guides the roses of thy lips,
    And flies about them like a bee;
    If I approach he forward skips,
    And if I kiss he stingeth me.
      Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
    And sleeps within their pretty shine;
    And if I look the boy will lower,
    And from their orbs shoots shafts divine.
      Love works thy heart within his fire,
    And in my tears doth firm the same;
    And if I tempt it will retire,
    And of my plaints doth make a game.
      Love, let me cull her choicest flowers,
    And pity me, and calm her eye,
    Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers,
    Then will I praise thy deity.
      But if thou do not love, I'll truly serve her
      In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.

1. Sonnets to Phillis. 38
2. Sonnets to Phillis. 8
3. Sonnets to Phillis. 28
4. Sonnets to Phillis. 17
5. Sonnets to Phillis. 26

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