from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 19

Come darkest night, becoming sorrow best;

Light; leave thy light; fitt for a lightsome soule;

Darknes doth truly sure with mee oprest

Whom absence power doth from mirthe controle:

The very trees with hanging heads condole

Sweet sommers parting, and of leaves distrest

In dying coulers make a griefe-full role;

Soe much (alas) to sorrow are they prest,

Thus of dead leaves her farewell carpett’s made:

Theyr fall, theyr branches, all theyr mournings prove;

With leavles, naked bodies, whose huese vade

From hopefull greene, to wither in theyr love,

If trees, and leaves for absence, mourners bee

Noe mervaile that I grieve, who like want see.