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Famous Poets :
Sonnet 21
>> Thomas Lodge <<
Ye heralds of my heart, mine ardent groans,
Oh, tears which gladly would burst out to brooks,
Oh, spent on fruitless sand my surging moans,
Oh, thoughts enthralled unto care-boding looks!
Ah, just laments of my unjust distress,
Ah, fond desires whom reason could not guide!
Oh, hopes of love that intimate redress,
Yet prove the load-stars unto bad betide!
When will you cease? Or shall pain never-ceasing,
Seize on my heart? Oh, mollify your rage,
Lest your assaults with over-swift increasing,
Procure my death, or call on timeless age.
What if they do? They shall but feed the fire,
Which I have kindled by my fond desire.
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