Sonnet 12 - Cloyed with the torments of a tedious night

Cloyed with the torments of a tedious night

I wish for day; which come, I hope for joy:

When cross I find new tortures to destroy

My woe-killed heart, first hurt by mischief's might,

Then cry for night, and once more day takes flight

And brightness gone; what rest should here enjoy

Usurped is; hate will her force employ;

Night cannot grief entomb though black as spite

My thoughts are sad; her face as sad doth seem:

My pains are long; her hours tedious are:

My grief is great, and endless is my care:

Her face, her force, and all of woes esteem:

Then welcome Night, and farewell flattering day

Which all hopes breed, and yet our joys delay.