Sonnet 47 - O stay mine eyes

O stay mine eyes, shed not these fruitless tears

Since hope is past to win you back again

That treasure which, being lost, breeds all your pain;

Cease from this poor betraying of your fears,

Think this too childish is, for where grief rears

So high a power for such a wretched gain,

Sighs, nor laments, should thus be spent in vain:

True sorrow, never outward wailing bears;

Be ruled by me, keep all the rest in store,

Till no room is that may contain one more,

Then in that sea of tears, drown hapless me,

And I'll provide such store of sighs as part

Shall be enough to break the strongest heart.

This done, we shall from torments freed be.