Sonnet 59

AH Handkercher, sad present of my Deare,
Gift miserable, which doth now remaine
The only Guerdon of my helplesse Paine,
When I thee got thou shewst my state too cleare.
I never since have ceased to complaine,
I since the Badge of Griefe did ever weare,
Joy in my Face durst never since appeare,
Care was the Food which did me entertaine.
But since that thou art mine, O do not grieve,
That I this Tribute pay thee for mine Eine,
And that I (this short Time I am to live)
Laundre thy silken Figures in this Brine:
No, I must yet even beg of thee the Grace,
That in my Grave thou daigne to shroud my Face.