Sonnet,

to

ing

:

me the smileing Mornings shine,
Phabus lifts his golden Fire:
in vain their amorous Descant joyn;
ful Fields resume their their green green Attire:
ens alas! for other Notes repine,
ent Object do these Eyes require.
y Anguish melts
my Breast the imperfect Joys expire.
ring smiles the busy Race to chear,
born Pleasure brings to happier Men:

no

Heart, but mine;

bear:

bear

The Fields to all their wonted Gribute bea So warm their little Loves the Birds complain: efill mourn to him that connot hear,

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