from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 19

Come darkest night, becoming sorrow best;

    Light; leave thy light; fitt for a lightsome soule;

    Darknes doth truly sure with mee oprest

    Whom absence power doth from mirthe controle:

The very trees with hanging heads condole

    Sweet sommers parting, and of leaves distrest

    In dying coulers make a griefe-full role;

    Soe much (alas) to sorrow are they prest,

Thus of dead leaves her farewell carpett’s made:

    Theyr fall, theyr branches, all theyr mournings prove;

    With leavles, naked bodies, whose huese vade

    From hopefull greene, to wither in theyr love,

If trees, and leaves for absence, mourners bee

Noe mervaile that I grieve, who like want see.