As freezing fountains, when the sun

As freezing fountains, when the sun

goes off their streams withhold,

and to their own embraces run

'till all congeal'd with cold;

Or as a hopeless drooping flow'r

for day departed grieves,

possest of nothing but a show'r

of tears upon her leaves

Such am I in your absence left

so like these mourner's show,

that brooks and flow'rs of day bereft

are pictures of my woe.