Mary Wroth
The Crown Sonnets
Unprofitably pleasing, and unsound
When heaven gave liberty to frail, dull earth
To bring forth plenty that in ills abound
Which ripest yet do bring a certain dearth
A timeless, and unseasonable birth
Planted in ill, in worse time springing found,
Which hemlock-like might feed a sick wit's mirth
Where unruled vapours swim in endless round,
Then joy we not in what we ought to shun
Where shady pleasures show, but true-born fires
Are quite quenched out, or by poor ashes won
Awhile to keep those cool, and wan desires.
O no, let Love his glory have and might
Be given to him who triumphs in his right.