Good Muse, rocke me aslepe <br />With some sweete harmony; <br />This wearie eye is not to kepe <br />Thy wary company. <br /> <br />Sweet Love, begon a while, <br />Thou seest my heaviness; <br />Beautie is borne but to beguyle <br />My harte of happines. <br /> <br />See how my little flocke, <br />That lovde to feede on highe, <br />Doe headlonge tumble downe the rocke, <br />And in the valley dye. <br /> <br />The bushes and the trees, <br />That were so freshe and greene, <br />Doe all their deintie colors leese, <br />And not a leafe is seene. <br /> <br />The blacke birde and the thrushe, <br />That made the woodes to ringe, <br />With all the rest are now at hushe, <br />And not a note they singe. <br /> <br />Swete Philomele, the birde <br />That hath the heavenly throte, <br />Doth nowe, alas! not once afforde <br />Recordings of a note. <br /> <br />Th flowers have had a frost, <br />The herbs have loste their savoure, <br />And Phillida the faire hath lost <br />'For me her wonted' favour. <br /> <br />Thus all these careful sights <br />So kill me in conceit, <br />That now to hope upon delights, <br />It is but meere deceite. <br /> <br />And therefore, my sweete Muse, <br />That knowest what helpe is best, <br />Doe nowe thy heavenlie conninge use <br />To sett my harte at rest; <br /> <br />And in a dreame bewraie <br />What fate shal be my frende; <br />Whether my life shall still decaye, <br />Or when my sorrowes ende.<br /><br />Anonymous Olde English<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-shepherd-s-address-to-his-muse/
