They flee from me that one time did me seek,
With foot not shod, and stalked on in my flat.
I have seen them mild, and tame, and meek,
That now are wild and now have lost the thought
That one time they did place their selves in threat
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
And spend all of their time to seek out change.

Thanked be my luck it hath been not this wise
A score of times more good; and once most of all,
In thin night clothes in some fair guise,
When her loose gown thus from her arms did fall,
And she caught me in her arms long and small;
And then so sweet she did me kiss
And soft said, "Dear heart, how like you this?"

It was no dream: I lay with eyes not closed.
But all is turned, from the ways of the high and mild
To some strange fad of where one loves then goes;
I've leave to go, out of her heart's own good,
And she too, gets to use this days' new mode.
But since I have been served so true
I would fain know what she hath due.

                                -- Sir Tom Watt