Mary Wroth

Sonnet 29 - O joy, no longer here abide

Fly hence, O joy, no longer here abide,

Too great thy pleasures are for my despair

To look on, losses now must prove my fare

Who not long since, on better food relied;

 

But fool, how oft had I heaven's changing spied

Before of my own fate I could take care,

Yet now past time, too late I can beware

Now nothing's left but sorrow's faster tide;

 

While I enjoyed that sun whose sight did lend

Me joy, I thought that day could have no end

But oh! a night came clothed in absence dark,

 

Absence more sad, more bitter then is gall

Or death, when on true lovers it doth fall

Whose fires of love, disdaineth rest's poor spark.