WHEN I, of my sweet LAURA leave did take;
Fair Fano's city, for a while to leave:
She gave to me, to wear it for her sake,
Of gold and pearl a dainty woven wreath.
Dear was the gift; because for love it came:
But dearer more; 'cause She gave me the same.
I look on 't still, and kiss it as my joy;
Kissing and bussing it, with it I play:
Which, at one instant, brings me mirth and 'noy;
And sighing oft thus to myself I say:
"White pearls are these; yet hath her mouth more fair!
Fine gold is this; yet finer is her hair!"
_Fano._