No rules ne'er rest your pinions, but low hope;
To wake my wondrous thought's in many and many
And your wander alters minds madden swipe.
Your cottage fill of dreams, of freshness wing,
Which power brake your noble flow, and how?
O' my sweet, sweetly touch; when ever you sing!
Let me spread your secret cipher, with emotes,
Most colored yours, still man needs you, do you?
So, though he mortal sleep in still your shades,
With somber ideas here, too far wish I glide
From this world -sour with hopeful Ecstasy
Let soul is pure, but Here is mine that fade
Misfortune leads despair with fear desires,
Your beauty utterly falls; nothing wakes?