His Wildness

O bid me mount and sail up there

Amid the cloudy wrack，

For Peg and Meg and Paris‘ love

That had so straight a back，

Are gone away， and some that stay

Have changed their silk for sack.

Were I but there and none to hear

I‘d have a peacock cry，

For that is natural to a man

That lives in memory，

Being all alone I‘d nurse a stone

And sing it lullaby.