Delia: Sonnet 3

IF so it hap, this of-spring of my care,
These fatall Antheames, sad and mournful songs:
Come to their view, who like afflicted are;
Ah let them sigh theyr owne, and mone my wrongs.
But vntoucht hatts, with vnaffected eye,
Approch not to behold so great distresse:
Cleer-sighted you, soone note what is awry,
Whilst blinded ones mine errours neuer gesse.
You blinded soules whom youth and errors leade,
You out-cast Eaglets, dazeled with your sunne:
Ah you, and none but you my sorrowes reade,
You best can iudge the wrongs that she hath done.
That she hath done, the motiue of my paine,
Who whilst I louē, doth kill me with disdaine.