O cruel Love, on thee I lay <br />My curse, which shall strike blind the day ; <br />Never may sleep with velvet hand <br />Charm thine eyes with sacred wand ; <br />Thy jailors shall be hopes and fears ; <br />Thy prison-mates groans, sighs, and tears ; <br />Thy play to wear out weary times, <br />Fantastic passions, vows, and rimes ; <br />Thy bread be frowns ; thy drink be gall, <br />Such as when you Phao call ; <br />The bed thou liest on be despair, <br />Thy sleep fond dreams, thy dreams long care ; <br />Hope, like thy fool, at thy bed's head, <br />Mock thee, till madness strike thee dead, <br />As, Phao, thou dost me with thy proud eyes ; <br />In thee poor Sappho lives, for thee she dies.<br /><br />John Lyly<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sappho-s-song/
