Poems from the works of Charles Cotton; newly decorated by Claud Lovat Fraser . 37. Sonnet WHAT have I left to doe but dye,Since Hope, my old Companion,That traind me from my Infency,My Friend, my Comforter is gone ? Oh fawning, false, deceiving Friend!Accursed be thy Flatteries,Which treacherously did intendI should be wretched to be wise: And so I am; for being taughtTo know thy guiles, have only wroughtMy greater misery and pain: My misery is yet so , though I have found out the Cheat,I wish for thee again in vain.

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidcu3192401317, bookyear1922