Severed from sweet Content, my life's sole light;
Banished by overweening wit from my desire:
This poor acceptance only I require,
That though my fault have forced me from thy sight;
Yet that thou wouldst (my sorrows to requite)
Review these Sonnets, pictures of thy praise;
Wherein each woe thy wondrous worth doth raise,
Though first thy worth bereft me of delight.
See them forsaken: for I them forsooke,
Forsaken first of thee, next of my sense;
And when thou deignst on their black tears to look
Shed not one tear my tears to recompense:
But joy in this (though Fates 'gainst me repine)
My verse still lives, to witness thee divine.