Her heart sent drops of pearl; which fell in foison down
'Twixt lily and the rose. She wrung her hands with pain
And piteously 'gan say, "My true and faithful pheer!
Alas, and woe is me! why should my fortune frown
On me thus frowardly to rob me of my joy?
What cruel envious hand hath taken thee away;
And with thee, my content, my comfort and my stay?
Thou only wast the ease of trouble and annoy:
When they did me assail, in thee my hopes did rest.
Alas, what now is left but grief that night and day