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Poem	O tell mee, tell, thou god of wynde, In all thy cavernes canst thou finde A vapor, fume, a gale or blast Like to a sigh which love doth cast? Can any whirlwynde in thy vault Plough upp earth's breast with like assault? Goe wynde and blowe thou where thou please, Yea breathles leave mee to my ease. If thou be wynde, O then refrayne From wracking whiles I thus complayne: If thou be wynde then light thou art, Yet O! how heavy is my hart! If thou be wynde then purge thy way, Lett cares that clogge thy force obey. Goe wynde and blow thou where thou please, Yea breathles leave mee to my ease. Those blasts of sighing raised are By influence of my bright starre; Their ?olus from whom they came Is love that straynes to blow his flame, The powerfull sway of whose behest Makes hearth and bellowes of my breast. Goe wynde and blowe then where thou please, Yea breathles leave mee to my ease. Know 'tis a wynde that longs to blowe Upon my Saint wherere shee goe, And stealing through her fanne it beares Soft errands to her lippes and eares, And then perhapps a passage makes Downe to her heart when breath shee takes. Goe wynde and blowe then where thou please, Yea breathles leave mee to my ease. Yes, gentle gale, trye that againe, O doe not passe from mee in vayne, Goe mingle with her soule divine Ingendring spiritts like to mine: Yea take my soule along with thee To worke a stronger sympathie: Goe wynde and blowe thou where thou please, Yea breathles leave mee to my ease. My soule, before my grosser part, Thus to her heaven should departe, And where the body cannott lye On wings of wynde my soule shall flye: If not one soule our bodies joyne, One body shall our soules confine, Goe wynde and blowe thou where thou please, Yea breathles leave mee to my ease.
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