Follow Your Saint
Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet; Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet. There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrow, pity move, And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love: But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again. All that I sung still to her praise did tend, Still she was first; still she my songs did end; Yet she my love and music both doth fly, The music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy. Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight: It shall suffice that they were breath'd and died for her delight.
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"Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;..."
Thomas Campion's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Follow Your Saint"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...