O benefit of ill! Now I find true
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruin'd love$$$ when it is built anew$$$
Grows fairer than at first$$$ more strong$$$ far greater.
So I return rebuk'd to my content$$$
And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent.

Be not self-willed$$$ for thou art much too fair
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.

I am to wait$$$ though waiting so be hell.

Making a famine where abundance lies$$$ Thy self thy foe$$$ to thy sweet self too cruel.

O! never say that I was false of heart.

Music to hear$$$ why hear'st thou music sadly?

More flow'rs I noted$$$ yet I none could see
But sweet or color it had stol'n from thee.

For summer and his pleasures wait on thee$$$
And$$$ thou away$$$ the very birds are mute:
Or$$$ if they sing$$$ ’tis with so dull a cheer$$$
That leaves look pale$$$ dreading the winter’s near.

Lo thus by day my limbs$$$ by night my mind$$$
For thee$$$ and for myself$$$ no quiet find.

How like a winter hath my absence been
From Thee$$$ the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt$$$ what dark days seen$$$
What old December's bareness everywhere!