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XXIX
Some in their hearts their mistress' colours bears;
Some hath her gloves, some other hath her garters,
Some in a bracelet wears her golden hairs,
And some with kisses seal their loving charters.
But I which never favour reapèd yet,
Nor had one pleasant look from her fair brow,
Content myself in silent shade to sit
In hope at length my cares to overplow.
Meanwhile mine eyes shall feed on her fair face,
My sighs shall tell to her my sad designs,
My painful pen shall ever sue for grace
To help my heart, which languishing now pines;
And I will triumph still amidst my woe
Till mercy shall my sorrows overflow.
