Now sink of sorrow I, who live, the more the wrong,
Who wishing death, whom death denies, whose thread is all too long;
Who tied to wretched life, who looks for no relief,
Must spend my ever-dying days in never-ending grief.
Heartsease and only I like parallels run on,
Whose equal length keep equal breadth, and never meet in one:
Yet for not wronging him, my thoughts, my sorrows' cell,
Shall not run out; though leak they will, for liking him so well.
Farewell to you! my hopes, my wonted waking dreams.