Walsinghame

As you came from the holy land of Walsinghame Met you not with my true love By the way as you came? How shall I know your true love That have met many one As I went to the holy land That have come, that have gone? She is neither white nor brown But as the heavens fair There is none hath a form so divine In the earth or the air. Such an one did I meet, good Sir, Such an Angelic face, Who like a queen, like a nymph, did appear By her gait, by her grace. She hath left me here all alone, All alone as unknown, Who sometimes did me lead with her self, And me loved as her own. What’s the cause that she leaves you alone And a new way doth take; Who loved you once as her own And her joy did you make? I have loved her all my youth, But now old, as you see, Love likes not the falling fruit From the withered tree. Know that love is a careless child And forgets promise past, He is blind, he is deaf when he list And in faith never fast. His desire is a dureless content And a trustless joy He is won with a world of despair And is lost with a toy. Of womenkind such indeed is the love Or the word Love abused Under which many childish desires And conceits are excused. But true Love is a durable fire In the mind ever burning; Never sick, never old, never dead, From itself never turning.