Sonnet – Unquiet Grief

Unquiet grief search farther in my heart

If place be found which thou hast not possessed,

Or so much space can build hope's smallest nest,

Take it from me, I am the lodge of smart,

Despair, despair hath used the skilfullest art

To ruin hope, and murder easeful rest,

O me, despair my vine of hope hath pressed,

Ravished the grapes, the leaves left for my part.

Yet ruler grief, nor thou despair deny

This last request, proclaim 'twas not suspect

Grafted this bud of sorrow in my breast,

But knowledge daily doth my loss descry,

Cold love's now masked with care, change with respect,

When true flames lived these false fires were suppressed.