Whose is like my condition?
Scarcely know I remedy.
Alas! Did not estrangement
Draw my tears, I would not sigh.
O turtle-dove! acquaint me
Wherefore thus dost thou lament?
Art thou so stung by absence?
Of thy wings depriv’d and pent?
He saith, ‘Our griefs are equal:
Worn away with love, I lie.’