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Sonnet 17 by Thomas Lodge
Ah, fleeting weal! Ah, sly deluding sleep,
That in one moment giv'st me joy and pain!
How do my hopes dissolve to tears in vain,
As wont the snows, 'fore angry sun to weep!
Ah, noisome life that hath no weal in keep!
My forward grief hath form and working might;
My pleasures, like the shadows, take their flight;
My path to bliss is tedious, long and steep.
Twice happy thou Endymion that embracest
The live-long night thy love within thy arms,
Where thou fond dream my longed weal defacest,
Whilst fleeting and uncertain shades thou placest
Before my eyes with false deluding charms!
Ah, instant sweets which do my heart revive,
How should I joy if you were true alive!