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23. [Sonnet: On Loss]
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23. [Sonnet: On Loss]

Loe how the Sailer in a stormy night
Wailes and complaines, till he the starr perceive
Whose situation and assured hight
Should guide him through the strong and watrie Cave.
As many motives, wretched soule, I have
For to regrat, as few for to rejoyce
In seeing all things, once this sight I crave,
Since I the Loadstare of my life did loose.
And which is worse, amids those many woes,
Amidds my paines which passes all compare,
Noe helpe, noe hope, noe comfort, noe repose
Noe sunn appeares to cleare those clouds of care,
Save this, that fortune neither may nor dare
Make my misshapps more hapless then they are.