The day is done, the sun doth als declyne;
Night now approaches, and the moon appears;
The twinkling stars in firmament do shine,
Deceiving with the pools their circled spheres:
The birds to nests, wild beasts to dens reteres;
The moving leaves unmoved now repose;
Dew drops do fall, the portraits of my tears;
The waves within the seas them calmly close;
To all things nature order does impose:
But not to love, that proudly doth me thrall,
Who all the days and nights, but change or chose,
Stirs up the coals of fire unto my fall,
And sows his briars and thorns within my heart,
The fruits whereof are double grief and smart.