Rosalind’s Madrigal

By Thomas Lodge Thomas Lodge
Love in my bosom like a bee
    Doth suck his sweet;
Now with his wings he plays with me,
    Now with his feet.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender breast;
My kisses are his daily feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest.
    Ah, wanton, will ye?

And if I sleep, then percheth he
    With pretty flight,
And makes his pillow of my knee
    The livelong night.
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He music plays if so I sing;
He lends me every lovely thing;
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting.
    Whist, wanton, still ye!

Else I with roses every day
    Will whip you hence,
And bind you, when you long to play,
    For your offense.
I’ll shut mine eyes to keep you in,
I’ll make you fast it for your sin,
I’ll count your power not worth a pin.
Alas! what hereby shall I win
    If he gainsay me?

What if I beat the wanton boy
    With many a rod?
He will repay me with annoy,
    Because a god.
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosom be;
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee.
O Cupid, so thou pity me,
    Spare not, but play thee!

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Poet Thomas Lodge


SCHOOL / PERIOD Renaissance

Subjects Love, Romantic Love, Desire, Infatuation & Crushes


Poet, playwright, and physician Thomas Lodge was the son of a lord mayor of London. Educated at Trinity College, Oxford, Lodge attracted notice with one of the first defenses of poetry written in response to Stephen Gosson’s School of Abuse (1579). Lodge wrote other tracts, including An Alarum Against Usurers (1584), a warning against money lending. Though not autobiographical, the tract was informed by Lodge’s own persistent . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Love, Romantic Love, Desire, Infatuation & Crushes


SCHOOL / PERIOD Renaissance

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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