Lady! It cannot be, but that thine eyes <br />Must be my sun, such radiance they display <br />And strike me ev'n as Phoebus him, whose way <br />Through torrid Libya's sandy desert lies. <br />Meantime, on that side steamy vapours rise <br />Where most I suffer. Of what kind are they, <br />New as to me they are, I cannot say, <br />But deem them, in the Lover's language--sighs. <br />Some, though with pain, my bosom close conceals, <br />Which, if in part escaping thence, they tend <br />To soften thine, they coldness soon congeals. <br />While others to my tearful eyes ascend, <br />Whence my sad nights in show'rs are ever drown'd, <br />'Till my Aurora comes, her brow with roses bound.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-v-translated-from-milton/
