The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

March 5, 2010

The Sorrowful Playnte and the Music

"For all of playnte my song is sett, Wich long hathe served and nought can
gett. A faithefull herte so trulye mente Rewardid is full slenderelye."

"Each morn I wake, pray soule to take;
Before I do things evil, rash, I order ye to gie me cash."

"To be olde, alas, and destitute, my poem not worth a farthing,
What would best me, but eternal gath'ring?"

"I canna face the Warld again, Makar and Maker walk among them."

"For tis a young man's world with young men's girls,
A young girl's earth, to art and love give birth."

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