L'ENVOI

LORD of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,

To thee I send this written embassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit:

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine

May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, But that I hope some good conceit of thine

In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;

Till whatsoever star that guides my moving
Points on me graciously with fair aspect,
And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,
To show me worthy of thy sweet respect :

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee; Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me.

THE LOVER'S NIGHT THOUGHTS

WEARY with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head,

To work my mind, when body's work's expired :

For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,

And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see :

Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,

Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,

Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind For thee and for myself no quiet find.

BY NIGHT AND BY DAY

HOW can I then return in happy plight

That am debarr'd the benefit of rest?

When day's oppression is not eased by night, But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd?

And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me;
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.

I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the

heaven:

So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,

When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild'st the

even.

But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make grief's strength

seem stronger.

AMOR OMNIA VINCIT

WHEN, in disgrace with fortune and men's

eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising
Haply I think on Thee,-and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings,

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

REMEMBRANCE

WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste :

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear Friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end.