| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Robert Greene. 1560–92 |
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| 104. Fawnia |
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| 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, | 5 |
| That seems to melt even with the mildest touch, | |
| Then knew I where to seat me in a land | |
| Under wide heavens, but yet there is not such. | |
| So as she shows she seems the budding rose, | |
| Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower; | 10 |
| Sovran of beauty, like the spray she grows; | |
| Compass'd she is with thorns and canker'd flower. | |
| Yet were she willing to be pluck'd and worn, | |
| She would be gather'd, though she grew on thorn. | |
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| Ah! when she sings, all music else be still, | 15 |
| For none must be comparèd to her note; | |
| Ne'er breathed such glee from Philomela's bill, | |
| Nor from the morning-singer's swelling throat. | |
| Ah! when she riseth from her blissful bed | |
| She comforts all the world as doth the sun, | 20 |
| And at her sight the night's foul vapour 's fled; | |
| When she is set the gladsome day is done. | |
| O glorious sun, imagine me the west, | |
| Shine in my arms, and set thou in my breast! | |
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