Delia: Sonnet 47

O Whether (poore forsaken) wilt thou goe,
To goe from sorrow, and thine owne distresse,
When euery place presents like face of woe,
And no remoue can make thy sorrowes lesse?
Yet goe (forsaken,) leaue these woods, these playnes,
Leaue her and all, and all for her that leaues
Thee and thy loue forlorne, and both disdaines;
And of both, wrongfull deemes, and ill conceaues.
Seeke out some place, and see if any place
Can giue the least release vnto thy griefe:
Conuay thee from the thought of thy disgrace,
Steale from thy selfe, and be thy cares own thiefe.
But yet what comfort shall I heereby gaine?
Bearing the wonnd, I needs must feele the paine.