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MAY PROBYN

887                                       Is it Nothing to You?

WE were playing on the green together,
    My sweetheart and I
O! so heedless in the gay June weather
    When the word went forth that we must die.
O! so merrily the balls of amber
    And of ivory tossd we to the sky,
While the word went forth in the Kings chamber
    That we both must die.
O! so idly straying thro the pleasaunce
    Pluckd we here and there
Fruit and bud, while in the royal presence
    The Kings son was casting from his hair
Glory of the wreathen gold that crownd it,
    And, ungirdling all his garments fair,
Flinging by the jewelld clasp that bound it,
    With his feet made bare.
Down the myrtled stairway of the palace,
    Ashes on his head,
Came he, thro the rose and citron alleys,
    In rough sark of sackcloth habited,
And in the hempen halterO! we jested
    Lightly, and we laughd as he was led
To the torture, while the bloom we breasted
    Where the grapes grew red.

O! so sweet the birds, when he was dying,
    Piped to her and me
Is no room this glad June day for sighing
    He is dead, and she and I go free!
When the sun shall set on all our pleasure
    We will mourn himWhat, so you decree
We are heartless? Nay, but in what measure
    Do you more than we?

 

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