Caelica, Sonnet LXVII

WHile that my heart an Altar I did make,
To sacrifice desire and faith to loue,
The little Boy his Temples did forsake,
And would for me no bow nor arrow moue.
Dues of disgrace my incense did depresse:
That heat went in, the heart burnt not the lesse.

And as the man that sees his house opprest,
With fire; and part of his goods made a prey,
Yet doth pull downe the roofe to saue the rest,
Till his losse giue him light to runne away:
So when I saw the bell on other sheep,
I hid my selfe, but dreames vex them that sleep.

My exile was not like the barren tree,
Which beares his fruitlesse head vp to the skye,
But like the trees whose boughs o'reloaden be,
And with selfe-riches bowed downe to die;
When in the night with songs, not cries, I moane,
Lest more should heare what I complaine of one.