Dont Look Back
Take my advice: Forget hither:
Like a smitten plant you'll wither!
Know I thou, shalt make it thither;
If thou can'st, then, not here either:
For who would'st work like spider
Of riches and respite neither...
Aye! In cold London remaineth
Others have it made with cold breath;
There I ruleth not out pain,
Still the saddest pain doth soon wane
And what taketh over sweet and gain,
Thy footwear hitting the right lane...
So, thinketh not to look back,
As thou shalt be greeted by lack.
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