The Palmer

Down the valley 'gan he track,

Bag and bottle at his back,

In a surcoat all of gray;

Such wear palmers on the way,

When with scrip and staff they see

Jesus' grave on Calvary:

A hat of straw, like a swain,

Shelter for the sun and rain,

With a scallop shell before;

Sandals on his feet he wore;

Legs were bare, arms unclad;

Such attire this palmer had.

His face fair, like Titan's shine;

Gray and buxom were his eyne,

Whereout dropp'd pearls of sorrow;

Such sweet tears love doth borrow,

When in outward dews she plains

Heart's distress that lovers pains;

Ruby lips, cherry cheeks;

Such rare mixture Venus seeks,

When, to keep her damsels quiet,

Beauty sets them down their diet:

Adon was not thought more fair:

Curled locks of amber hair,

Locks where Love did sit and twine

Nets to snare the gazer's eyne.

Such a palmer ne'er was seen,

'Less Love himself had palmer been.

Yet, for all he was so quaint,

Sorrow did his visage taint:

'Midst the riches of his face

Grief decipher'd his disgrace.

Every step strain'd a tear;

Sudden sighs show'd his fear;

And yet his fear by his sight

Ended in a strange delight;

That his passions did approve,

Weeds and sorrow were for love.