Page:Elizabethan sonnet-cycles.djvu/97



me to the child that plays with fire,

Or to the fly that dieth in the flame,

Or to the foolish boy that did aspire

To touch the glory of high heaven's frame;

Compare me to Leander struggling in the waves,

Not able to attain his safety's shore,

Or to the sick that do expect their graves,

Or to the captive crying evermore;

Compare me to the weeping wounded hart,

Moaning with tears the period of his life,

Or to the boar that will not feel the smart,

When he is stricken with the butcher's knife;

No man to these can fitly me compare;

These live to die, I die to live in care.