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Cleare or cloudie sweet as April showring,
Smoth or frowning so is hir face to mee,
Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring,
When skies blew silke and medowes carpets bee,
Hir speeches notes of that night bird that singeth,
Who thought all sweet yer Jarring notes outringeth.
Hir grace like June, when earth and trees bee trimde,
In best attire of compleat beauties height,
Hir love againe like sommers daies bee dimde,
With little cloudes of doubtfull constant faith,
Hir trust hir doubt, like raine and head in Skies,
Gently thundring, she lightning to my eies.
Sweet sommer spring that breatheth life and growing,
In weedes as into hearbs and flowers,
And sees of service divers sorts in sowing,
Some haply seeming and some being yours,
Raine on your hearbs and flowers that truely serve,
And let your weeds lack dew and duely starve.

Text přidal zanzara

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