143

Lo as a careful huswife runs to catch,
One of her feathered creatures broke away,
Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay:

Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent,
To follow that which flies before her face:
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;

So run'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind,
But if thou catch thy hope turn back to me:
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind.

So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will,
If thou turn back and my loud crying still.

Up to the EServer! | Poetry Collection! | The Sonnets

(This edition by Geoffrey Sauer. Free for noncommercial use.)