MY Phillis hath the morning sun
   At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
   Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
   That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
   That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
   Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
   Nor grace to those that crave it.