Sonnet LXXVI. Be blind, mine Eyes! which saw that stormy frown

Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)

BE blind, mine Eyes! which saw that stormy frown.

Wither, long-watering Lips! which may not kiss.

Pine, Arms! which wished-for sweet embraces miss.

And upright parts of pleasure! fall you down.

Waste, wanton tender Thighs! Consume for this;

To her thigh-elms, that you were not made vines!

And my long pleasure in her body grafted.

But, at my pleasure, her sweet thought repines.

My heart, with her fair colours, should be wafted

Throughout this ocean of my deep despair:

Why do I longer live? but me prepare

My life, together with my joys, to finish!

And, long ere this, had I died, with my care;

But hope of joys to come, did all diminish.