William Smith,
Elizabethan Sonnet-Cycles — Chloris
(1897)
“ Why should my Chloris then be so unkind? That neither tears, nor sighs, nor streaming blood, Can unto mercy move her cruel mood. V You fawns and silvans, when my Chloris brings Her flocks to water in your pleasant plains, Solicit her to pity Corin's strings, The smart whereof for her he still sustains. For she is ruthless of my woeful song; My oaten reed she not delights to hear. O Chloris, Chloris! Corin thou dost wrong, Who loves thee better than his own heart dear. ”
