Melpomene, the muse of tragic songs, <br />With mournful tunes, in stole of dismal hue, <br />Assist a silly nymph to wail her woe, <br />And leave thy lusty company behind. <br /> <br />Thou luckless wreath! becomes not me to wear <br />The poplar tree for triumph of my love: <br />Then as my joy, my pride of love, is left, <br />Be thou unclothed of thy lovely green; <br /> <br />And in thy leaves my fortune written be, <br />And them some gentle wind let blow abroad, <br />That all the world may see how false of love <br />False Paris hath to his Œnone been.<br /><br />George Peele<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/none-s-complaint/
