Skip to content

poem of the day

In Praise of His Loving and Best-Beloved Fawnia
by Robert Greene (1558?-1592)

Ah, were she pitiful as she is fair,
Or but as mild as she is seeming so,
Then were my hopes greater than my despair,
Then all the world were Heaven, nothing woe.
Ah, were her heart relenting as her hand,
That seems to melt e

This was written by admin. Posted on Sunday, September 28, 2008, at 1:02 am. Filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow comments here with the RSS feed. Post a comment or leave a trackback.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *
*
*