Shall I strive with words to move
When deeds receive not due regard?
Shall I speak and neither please
Nor be freely heard?
Grief, alas, though all in vain,
Her restless anguish must reveal
She alone my wound shall know
Though she will not heal
All woes have end though awhile delayed,
Our patience proving
Oh that Time's strange effects
Could but make her loving
Storms calm at last, and why may not
She leave off her frowning?
Oh sweet Love, help her hands,
My affecting crowning