Sonnet XXVII. The banke whereon I leand my restles head

Thomas Watson (1555–1592)

THE BANKE whereon I leand my restles head,

Placd at the bottome of a mirtle tree:

I oft had watered with the teares I shed,

Sad teares did with the fallen earth agree.

Since when the flocks that grase vpon the plaine,

Doe in their kind lament my woes though dumbe:

And euery one as faithfull doth refraine

To eate that grasse which sacred is become.

And euerie tree forbeareth to let fall,

Their dewie drops mongst any brinish teares:

Onelie the mirth whose hart as mine is thrall,

To melt in sorrowes sourse no whit forbeare.

So franticke loue with griefe our paind harts wringing,

That still we wept and still the grasse was springing.