Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
 
W. Shakespeare
 
XX. Love's Perjuries
 
ON a day, alack the day! 
Love, whose month is ever May, 
Spied a blossom passing fair 
Playing in the wanton air: 
Through the velvet leaves the wind,         5
All unseen, 'gan passage find; 
That the lover, sick to death, 
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 
Air, would I might triumph so!  10
But, alack, my hand is sworn 
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: 
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; 
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. 
Do not call it sin in me  15
That I am forsworn for thee: 
Thou for whom Jove would swear 
Juno but an Ethiope were, 
And deny himself for Jove, 
Turning mortal for thy love.  20
 
 
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