di Thomas Lodge (1558-1625)

Turn I my looks unto the skies,
Love with his arrows wounds my eyes;
If so I gaze upon the ground,
Love then in every flower is found;
Search I the shade to fly my pain,
Love meets me in the shade again;
Want I to walk in secret grove,
E'en there I meet with sacred love;
If so I bathe me in the spring,
E'en on the brink I hear him sing;
If so I meditate alone,
he will be partner to my moan;
If so I mourn, he weeps with me,
And where I am there will he be.