Sonnet XXVI: I Ever Love

 To Despair

I ever love where never hope appears, 
Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care, 
And my life's hope would die, but for despair; 
My never-certain joy breeds ever-certain fears; 
Uncertain dread gives wings unto my hope, 
Yet my hope's wings are laden so with fear 
As they cannot ascend to my hope's sphere; 
Though fear gives them more than a heav'nly scope, 
Yet this large room is bounded with despair; 
So my love is still fetter'd with vain hope, 
And liberty deprives him of his scope, 
And thus am I imprison'd in the air. 
Then, sweet despair, awhile hold up thy head, 
Or all my hope for sorrow will be dead.

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