Behold what hap Pygmalion had to frame <br />And carve his proper grief upon a stone; <br />My heavy fortune is much like the same: <br />I work on flint, and that's the cause I moan. <br />For hapless, lo, ev'n with mine own desires, <br />I figur'd on the table of my heart <br />The fairest form, the world's eye admires, <br />And so did perish by my proper art. <br />And still I toil, to change the marble breast <br />Of her, whose sweetest grace I do adore, <br />Yet cannot find her breath unto my rest: <br />Hard is her heart, and woe is me, therefore. <br />O happy he that joy'd his stone and art, <br />Unhappy I to love a stony heart.<br /><br />Samuel Daniel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xiii-behold-what-hap/
