Sonnet. 54 (Sonnet 54)

YEt reade at last the story of my woe,
The drery abstracts of my endlesse cares,
With my like sorrow enterlined so,
Smokde with my sighes, and blotted with my teares;
The sad memorialls of my miseries,
Pend…n the griefe of mine afflicted ghost;
My lifes complaint in dolefull Elegies,
With so pure loue as time could neuer boast:
Receiue the incence which I offer heere,
By my strong faith ascending to thy fame,
My zeale, my hope, my vowes, my praise, my praier,
My soules oblations to thy sacred name:
Which name my Muse to highest heauen shal raise,
By chaste desire, true loue, and vertues praise.