Sonnet 14

TO heare my plaints faire River Christalline
Thou in a silent slumber seems to stay,
Delicious Flowers Lilly and Columbine,
Ye bow your Heads when I my Woes display.
Forrests in you the Mirtle, Palme and Bay,
Have had compassion listning to my groanes,
The Winds with sighs have solemniz'd my moanes
'Mong leaves, which whisper'd what they could not say,
The Caves, the Rocks, the Hills, the Sylvans Thrones,
(As if even pitty did in them appeare,)
Have at my sorrow rent their ruthlesse stones,
Each thing I find hath sence except my Deare,
Who doth not thinke I love, or will not know
My Griefe, perchance delighting in my woe.