Marywroth(1587–1651?)
Sonnet 25: "Poor eyes be blind, the light behold no more"
Poor eyes be blind, the light behold no more
Since that is gone which is your dear delight,
Ravished from you by greater pow'r, and might,
Making your loss a gain to others' store;
O'erflow, and drown, till sight to you restore
That blessed star,9 and as in hateful spite
Send forth your tears in floods, to kill all sight,
And looks, that lost,1 wherein you joyed before.
Bury these beams, which in some 0 kindled fires,some people
And conquered have their love-burnt-hearts' desires,
Losing, and yet no gain by you esteemed,
Till that bright star do once again appear
Brighter than Mars when he doth shine most clear;
See not: then by his might, be you redeemed.