Sonnet LIX Unhappy Pen

Unhappy pen and ill-accepted papers,

That intimate in vain my chaste desires,

My chaste desires, the ever-burning tapers Enkindled by her eyes' celestial fires.

Celestial fires and unrespecting powers,

That deign not view the glory of your might In humble lines, the work of carefull hours,

The sacrifice I offer to her sight.

But sith she scorns her own, this rests for me;

I'll moan myself and hide the wrong I have,

And so content me that her frowns should be To my'infant style the cradle and the grave.

What though myself no honor get thereby,

Each bird sings t'herself, and so will I.