Sonnet CLII:
Clamber again into thy midday place,
O sun of love, now so besmirched with cloud;
So crossed and railed against by tempests loud,
That beat poor nature on her tearful face!
Gather again thy potent beams, and chase
That gloom away, beneath whose weight are bowed
Our festive roses and our lilies proud,
And let them rally in their wonted grace!
Ah! surely, gentle Love, it is not night
Whose leaden eyelids watch the day’s decline,
But passing vapors that o’erveil thy light.
For if ’twere night indeed, some star of thine
Would now be trembling in my anxious sight,
Hung forth from heaven as hope’s unfailing sign.
