SONNET. When I entreat, either thou wilt not hear

When I entreat, either thou wilt not hear,
Or else my suit arriving at thy ear
Cools and dies there. A strange extremitie
To freeze ith' Sun, and in the shade to frie.
Whil'st all my blasted hopes decline so soon,
Tis Evening with me, though at high Noon.
For pity to thy self, if not to me
Think time will ravish, what I lose, from thee.
If my scorcht heart wither through thy delay,
Thy beauty withers too. And swift decay
Arrests thy Youth. So thou whil'st I am slighted
Wilt be too soon with age or sorrow nighted.

poem by Henry King
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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