The Lover’s Life compared to the Alps

LIKE unto these unmeasurable mountains

So is my painful life, the burden of ire;

For high be they, and high is my desire;

And I of tears, and they be full of fountains:

Under craggy rocks they have barren plains;

Hard thoughts in me my woful mind doth tire:

Small fruit and many leaves their tops do attire,

With small effect great trust in me remains:

The boisterous winds oft their high boughs do blast;

Hot sighs in me continually be shed:

Wild beasts in them, fierce love in me is fed;

Unmovable am I, and they steadfast.

Of singing birds they have the tune and note;

And I always plaints passing through my throat.