Thou poor heart sacrific'd unto the fairest, <br />Hast sent the incense of thy sighs to heav'n; <br />And still against her frowns fresh vows repairest, <br />And made thy passions with her beauty ev'n. <br />And you mine eyes, the agents of my heart, <br />Told the dumb message of my hidden grief, <br />And oft with careful turns, with silent art, <br />Did treat the cruel Fair to yield relief. <br />And you my verse, the advocates of love, <br />Have follow'd hard the process of my case, <br />And urg'd that title which doth plainly prove <br />My faith should win, if justice might have place. <br />Yet though I see that nought we do can move her, <br />'Tis not disdain must make me leave to love her.<br /><br />Samuel Daniel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-viii-thou-poor-heart/
