Sonnets, Etc, IX

Oh lovely gifts, by me too fatal found! Lovely and dear indeed whilst Heaven was kind; In mine immortal memory ye are joined, And sworn with her to give my dying wound; Who would have said, sweet seasons past, when crowned With the ecstatic hope your emblems lent, That one day you would have to represent Despair so dark, affliction so profound? Since in an hour ye made unpitying theft Of those Elysian dreams, do not deny To take as well the sorrow you have left; Else, can I but suspect ye raised so high My youthful joys, to wish that I should die Midst mournful memories of the bliss bereft!