His Wildness

    O bid me mount and sail up there

    Amid the cloudy wrack¹，

    For Peg² 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.