FOLLOW your saint, follow with accents sweet! <br />Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet! <br />There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, pity move, <br />And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love: <br />But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, <br />Then burst with sighing in her sight, and ne'er return again! <br /> <br />All that I sung still to her praise did tend; <br />Still she was first, still she my songs did end; <br />Yet she my love and music both doth fly, <br />The music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy: <br />Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight! <br />It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her delight.<br /><br />Thomas Campion<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/devotion-ii/
