SONNET
.
TO
—
.
BY
THE
SAME
.
"
SWEET
is
the
Love
that
comes
with
willingness
:
"
So
sings
the
sweetest
Bard
Spense
that
ever
sung
;
Ten
thousand
blessings
on
his
tuneful
tongue
,
Who
felt
and
plain'd
true
lovers'
sore
distress
!
Sweet
were
the
joys
which
once
you
did
possess
,
When
on
the
yielding
Fair
one's
lips
you
hung
;
The
sorer
now
your
tender
heart
is
wrung
With
sad
remembrance
of
her
fickleness
:
Yet
let
not
grief
and
heart-consuming
care
Prey
on
your
soul
;
but
let
your
constant
mind
Bear
up
with
strength
and
manly
hardiness
;
Your
worth
may
move
a
more
deserving
Fair
;
And
she
,
that
scornful
beauty
,
soon
may
find
,
Sharp
are
the
pangs
that
follow
faithlessness
.