Before my tears did drown it;

Is the year only lost to me?

Have I no bays to crown it,

No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted, 15
All wasted?

Not so, my heart, but there is fruit,
And thou hast hands.

Recover all thy sigh-blown age

On double pleasures; leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not; forsake thy cage, 21 Thy rope of sands

Which petty thoughts have made; and made to thee

Good cable, to enforce and draw,
And be thy law,

25

While thou didst wink and wouldst not

The merry World did on a day
With his train-bands and mates agree
To meet together where I lay,
And all in sport to jeer at me.

36