Inbossom my head forth, lead me into silent poetry Wretchedness leaves my eyes desired As labouring claims those golden hairs Come appetise my tongue to heavenly moistures Do lend a breast to gaze upon Have in summers past all pleasures Or be them winded in my forehead (fill your dowry needs) Sleepless (the sound of crashing waves) Make thyself aroused to a flood of tears In streaks of day, when owls do cry And fables tread the primrose path All that bares in fruit Sits under the bough that blossoms Coral lips with a pleasing tale Touches as a flower with frost Have like twenty kisses and bide where the billows spoke
Harrow me up with glutton lips, make good the yeast Endeaver thyself as a whore Then I'll take towards no pity O sweet dames like infants of the spring
