Sonnet Xxxi Poem by E C Esquire

In tedious volumes I doe not intend
To write my woes, my woes by loue procured,
Nor by my infant muse implore the end
Of loues true life, this (loue) I haue abiured:
Only my face (faire deare) shall be the booke
Wherein my daily care shall be rehearsed:
Whereby thou shalt perceiue when thou doest looke,
How by thy beauties darts my heart was piersed.
My eyes shall witnes with distilling teares,
And heart with deepe fetcht sighes shall manifest
My painfull torments causde by griefes and feares,
And hourely labours mixt with deepe vnrest:
Both heart, and eyes, and face shall all expresse,
That only thou art cause of my distresse.