The Sixth Decade. Sonnet VI. Forgive me, Dear! for thundering on thy name

Henry Constable (1562–1613)

FORGIVE me, Dear! for thundering on thy name;

Sure ’tis thyself that shows my love distrest.

For fire exhaled, in freezing clouds possest,

Warring for way, makes all the heavens exclaim.

Thy beauty so, the brightest living flame,

Wrapt in my cloudy heart, by winter prest,

Scorning to dwell within so base a nest,

Thunders in me thy everlasting flame.

O that my heart might still contain that fire!

Or that the fire would always light my heart!

Then should’st thou not disdain my true desire,

Or think I wronged thee, to reveal to my smart:

For as the fire through freezing clouds doth break;

So, not myself, but thou in me would’st speak.