GEORGE WITHER'S POEM - I LOVED A LASS

 

On the 12^th day of the Blog chatter’s #WRITEAPAGEADAY, Here is a poem with love as the major theme.

 

Poet: George Wither  

Poem:  I Loved A Lass 

     I LOVED a lass, a fair one,
    As fair as e'er was seen;
She was indeed a rare one,
    Another Sheba Queen:
But, fool as then I was,
    I thought she loved me too:
But now, alas! she 's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

Her hair like gold did glister,
    Each eye was like a star,
She did surpass her sister,
    Which pass'd all others far;
She would me honey call,
    She'd—O she'd kiss me too!
But now, alas! she 's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

In summer time to Medley

My love and I would go;

The boat men there stood ready,

My love and I to row.

For cream there would we call,

For cakes, nad for prunes too;

But now, alas, she ‘s left me,

Falero, lero, loo.

 

 

Many a merry meeting
    My love and I have had;
She was my only sweeting,
    She made my heart full glad;
The tears stood in her eyes
    Like to the morning dew:
But now, alas! she 's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

And as aboard we walked,

As lovers fashion is,

Oft as we sweetly talked

The sun should steal a kiss,

The wind upon her lips

Likewise most sweetly blew;

But now, alas, she’s left me,

Falero, lero, loo.

 

Her cheeks were like the cherry,
    Her skin was white as snow;
When she was blithe and merry
    She angel-like did show;
Her waist exceeding small,
    The fives did fit her shoe:
But now, alas! she 's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

In summer time or winter
    She had her heart's desire;
I still did scorn to stint her
    From sugar, sack, or fire;
The world went round about,
    No cares we ever knew:
But now, alas! she 's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

As we walked home together

At midnight through the town,

To keep away the weather

O’er her I’d cast my gown.

No cold my love should feel,

Whate’er the heavens could do;

But now alas! she 's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

 

Like doves we would be billing,

And clip and kiss so fast,

Yet she would be unwilling

That I should kiss the last;

They ‘re Judas’ kisses now,

Since that they proved untrue.

 For now, alas! she 's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

 

To maidens' vows and swearing
    Henceforth no credit give;
You may give them the hearing,
    But never them believe;
They are as false as fair,
    Unconstant, frail, untrue:
For mine, alas! hath left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

 

T was I that paid for all things,

T was others drank the wine,

I cannot now recall things,

Live but a fool to pine.

T was I that beat the bush,

The bird to others flew,

 For she, alas! she's left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

 

If ever that Dame nature,

For this false lover’s sake,

Another pleasing creature

Like unto her would make,

Let her remember this,

To make the other true,

For this, alas! hath left me,
    Falero, lero, loo.

 

No riches now can raise me,

No want make me despair,

No misery amaze me,

Nor yet for want I care;

I have lost a world itself,

My earthly heaven, adieu,

Since she, alsa, hath left me,

Falero, lero loo.

 

Born in (1588-1667) near Alton, Hampshire, George Wither was a student of Law. During his imprisonment he wrote a large number of poems, which he collected and published in 1622 as Juvenilia.

As a writer of amatory lyrics, he has little of that fantastic vein and sudden moods of pensive reflection peculiar to the little band recently considered. He is frank and fervent, and surprisingly respectable for his age, in his amatory enthusiasms, while his famous song “Shall I, wasting in Despair”, is an excellent example of his lyrical power.