The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

17
On the Moon
On Ink
On a Circle
On a Pen
A Fan
On a Cannon
On the Five Senses
On Snow
On a Candle
On a Corkscrew
On the Same
An Echo
On the Vowels
On a Pair of Dice
On a Shadow in a Glass
On Time
MISCELLANEOUS.
TO MY EMPTY PURSE.
CHAUCER.
To you, my purse, and to none other wight,
Complain I, for ye be my lady dere;
I am sorry now that ye be light,
For, certes, ye now make me heavy chere;
Me were as lefe be laid upon a bere,
For which unto your mercy thus I crie,
Be heavy againe, or els mote I die.
Now vouchsafe this day or it be night,
That I of you the blissful sowne may here,
Or see your color like the sunne bright,
That of yellowness had never pere; Ye are my life, ye be my hertes
stere,
Queen of comfort and of good companie,
Be heavy again, or else mote I die.
Now purse, thou art to me my lives light,