Sonnet LVIII. When as I marke the ioy of euery wight

Thomas Watson (1555–1592)

WHEN as I marke the ioy of euery wight,

Howe in their mindes deepe throbbing sorrow ceaseth

And by what meanes they nourish their delight,

Their sweet delight my paine the more increaseth.

For as the Deare that sees his fellow feede,

Amid the lusty heard, himselfe sore brused:

Or as the bird that feeles her selfe to bleede,

And lies aloofe of all her pheeres refused.

So haue I found and now too deerely trie,

That pleasure doubleth paine and blisse annoy:

Yet still I twit my selfe of Surcuidrie,

As one that am vnworthy to inioy.

The lasting frute of such a heauenly loue,

For whom these endles sorrowes I approue.