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Sonnet 12 [Alas, so all things now do hold their peace]

Alas, so all things now do hold their peace, 
Heaven and earth disturbèd in no thing; 
The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease; 
The nightes car the stars about doth bring. 
Calm is the sea, the waves work less and less. 
So am not I, whom love, alas, doth wring, 
Bringing before my face the great increase 
Of my desires, whereat I weep and sing 
In joy and woe, as in a doubtful ease. 
For my sweet thoughts sometime do pleasure bring, 
But by and by the cause of my disease 
Gives me a pang that inwardly doth sting, 
When that I think what grief it is again 
To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Henry Howard

by this poet

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
The nightingale with feathers new she sings;
And turtle to her make hath told her tale.
Summer is come, for every spray now springs;
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coat he
Set me where as the sun doth parch the green, 
Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice; 
In temperate heat where he is felt and seen; 
With proud people, in presence sad and wise; 
Set me in base, or yet in high degree, 
In the long night, or in the shortest day, 
In clear weather, or where mists thickest be