T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
My Days, My Months, My Years
By John Attey (d. 1640)(From First Book of Airs, 1622) |
MY days, my months, my years | |
| I spend about a moment’s gain, | |
| A joy that in th’ enjoying ends, | |
| A fury quickly slain; | |
| A frail delight, like that wasp’s life | 5 |
| Which now both frisks and flies, | |
| And in a moment’s wanton strife | |
| It faints, it pants, it dies. | |
| And when I charge, my lance in rest, | |
| I triumph in delight, | 10 |
| And when I have the ring transpierced | |
| I languish in despite; | |
| Or like one in a lukewarm bath, | |
| Light-wounded in a vein, | |
| Spurts out the spirits of his life | 15 |
| And fainteth without pain. | |