He took perhaps the readiest way
He could have done thy worth to know;
From thy fine face and finer play
Of wit he could not, could not go,
And seeing thee but once, remain
Content to see thee ne'er again.
TO A LADY,
Who threw to Garcilasso whilst walking with a friend, her spindle, and the net she had begun to weave, saying it was all the work she had done that day.
1.
Lady! from this net and coil
We must gather, that you cast
From you, in an hour, the toil
Of the four and twenty past.
2.
If at passers-by you send
The fair work your fingers do,
How think you to discommend
That which others weave for you!