So many, above the circle of the moon,
Of stars were never yet beheld by night;
So many birds reside not in the groves;
So many herbs hath neither field nor shore,
But my heart's thoughts outnumber them each eve.
Many of his poems witness to the truth that the love-passion is the best interpreter of Nature, especially in its woes. The woes of love are his constant theme, and far more eloquently expressed than its bliss:
So fair I have not seen the sun arise,
When heaven was clearest of all cloudy stain--
The welkin-bow I have not after rain
Seen varied with so many shifting dyes,