SO oft as homeward I from her depart, <br />I goe lyke one that hauing lost the field: <br />is prisoner led away with heauy hart, <br />despoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield. <br />So doe I now my selfe a prisoner yeeld, <br />to sorrow and to solitary paine: <br />from presence of my dearest deare exylde, <br />longwhile alone in languor to remaine. <br />There let no thought of ioy or pleasure vaine, <br />dare to approch, that may my solace breed: <br />but sudden dumps and drery sad disdayne, <br />of all worlds gladnesse more my torment feed. <br />So I her absens will my penaunce make, <br />that of her presens I my meed may take.<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lii-2/
