Sonnet

Ten thousand times from side to side I turn, And, restless, roll as on a hedge of thorn; All thir cold nights I gaunt, I glow and burn, I wish for day, yet languish while the morn; And thinking all that time I hear a horn, Announcing that Aurora does appear To glad my heart, by languor all forlorn, And closed darkness of my eyes to clear; I make this verse, but light and learn perquire, Not knowing yet the sequel of the same; Disturbed with yowling hounds that hourly beir, And cackling crows, that seems my pain proclaim; And cry of thee, whose beauty works my smart, Ruth in thy eyes, and rigour in thy heart.