Phillis I

My Phillis hath the morning sun

At first to look upon her;

And Phillis hath morn-waking birds

Her risings still to honour.

My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,

That smile when she treads on them;

And Phillis hath a gallant flock,

That leaps since she doth own them.

But Phillis hath too hard a heart,

Alas that she should have it!

It yields no mercy to desert,

Nor grace to those that crave it.