Phillis, Sonnet XV

My Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her.
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds,
Her risings for to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feathered flowers,
That smile when she treads on them,
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath so hard a heart--
Alas that she should have it!--
As yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.
Sweet sun, when thou look'st on,
Pray her regard my moan.
Sweet birds, when you sing to her,
To yield some pity woo her.
Sweet flowers, whenas she treads on,
Tell her, her beauty deads one.
And if in life her love she nill agree me,
Pray her before I die, she will come see me.