Sonnet XXXVI: Heare how my sighes, are ecchoed of

Heare how my sighes, are ecchoed of the wind,
See how my teares, are pittied by the raine:
Feele what a flame, possessed hath my mind,
Taste but the griefe, which I possesse in vaine.
Then if my sighes, the blustering windes surpasse:
And watrie teares, the droppes of raine exceed,
And if no flame, like mine, nor is, nor was:
Nor griefe like that, wheron my soule doth feed:
Relent (faire Licia) when my sighes doe blowe,
Yeeld at my teares, that flint-like, droppes consume:
Accept the flame, that doth my incense showe,
Allowe the griefe, that is my hearts perfume.
Thus sighes, and teares, flame, griefe, shall plead for me,
So shall I pray, and you a goddesse be.