Page:Elizabethan sonnet-cycles.djvu/43

 TO DESPAIR

ever love where never hope appears,

Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care,

And my life's hope would die but for despair;

My never certain joy breeds ever certain fears.

Uncertain dread gives wings unto my hope;

Yet my hope's wings are laden so with fear

As they cannot ascend to my hope's sphere,

Though fear gives them more than a heavenly scope.

Yet this large room is bounded with despair,

So my love is still fettered with vain hope,

And liberty deprives him of his scope,

And thus am I imprisoned in the air.

Then, sweet despair, awhile hold up thy head,

Or all my hope for sorrow will be dead.