Love is a Sickness

By Samuel Daniel

1562-1619

LOVE is a sickness full of woes,
         All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
         Most barren with best using.
         Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
         Heigh ho!

Love is a torment of the mind,
         A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
         Not well, nor full nor fasting.
         Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
         Heigh ho!

DayPoems Poem No. 113
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/113.html">Love is a Sickness by Samuel Daniel</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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