William Shakespeare - The Pa**ionate Pilgrim: 10 lyrics

X. Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded, Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring! Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded! Fair creature, k**'d too soon by d**h's sharp sting! Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, And falls, through wind, before the fall should he. I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have; For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will: And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave; For why I craved nothing of thee still: O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee, Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.