A Robyn, <br />Jolly Robyn, <br />Tell me how thy leman doeth, <br />And thou shalt knowe of myn. <br /> <br />'My lady is unkynde, perde.' <br />Alack! why is she so? <br />'She loveth an other better than me; <br />And yet she will say no.' <br /> <br />I fynde no such doublenes; <br />I fynde women true; <br />My lady loveth me dowtles, <br />And will change for no newe. <br /> <br />'Thou art happy while that deeth last: <br />But I say, as I fynde, <br />That women's love is but a blast, <br />And torneth with the wynde.' <br /> <br />Suche folkes can take no harme by love, <br />That can abide their torn. <br />'But I alas can no way prove <br />In love, but lake and morne.' <br /> <br />But if thou wilt avoyde thy harme, <br />Lerne this lessen of me: <br />At others fieres thy selfe to warme, <br />And let them warme with the.<br /><br />Anonymous Olde English<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-robyn-jolly-robyn/
