My Ladies Favour -- Poetry by Chris Robertson

My Ladies Favour

My ladie, smile on mee, and lo! the Sunne In radiance bright from deepest night shall springe And all the stars from Heav'ns vault swiftly runne, Whilst birds awake and morning caroles sing; And I in pure delight Shall baske in thy sweet gift of warmth and light And, like the birds, shall sing for happiness But thou dost aske, What of those plung'd in night? I say, they heretofore did but beguile Themselves, to think their former dayes were bright, For none of them has ever seen thy smile Or looked upon thy face, So wholly they denied have been from grace. How can I pitty thatt their Sunne bee gone-- They cannot misse what they have never knowne! But I, who knowe what darknesse is, entreat Thee that thy Sunne from mee shall never goe. But thou dost chide mee, Cease from this conceit Thatte I the Universe can order so! And now I am caste down In gloome, to see my jest hath made thee frowne. I shall take heed thy lesson for my wit, Yet still, my love is lessen'd not one whit.