dark boughs contrive to curtain off the sky,
their whisper’d frith avow what i’d enshroud;
my seat lies waiting, yet i pass it by,
for languor thickens where i’d have mistrowed.

once did i knock, and pled at thine own gate,
though all my words fell hollow at thy feet,
now dumb i stand, lest asking breed thy hate,
the sugared lie thy pity makes too sweet.

the tide upclimbs, my garments drinks its brine,
my corpse turns leaden with the sea’s command;
so love, once sweet, is ballast made of thine,
that drags me deeper than my feet can stand.

  my sovereign, smile, i think thy reign is true;
  i gasp in rout and drown myself for you.