Sonnet VII: To Bid A Brighter Dawn

Woe to me, sorrow bears unkindly morn,
woe to dawn, that I wake in shadow here;
what past has bade me this untimely scorn,
that I had not in life shed proper tear;
save me from this feign burden now ‘ere staid,
that I may then induce less bitter seal;
save me, dear heart, from such scorn e’er waylaid,
that I may better hold such love I feel;
take this withered morning from my design,
that I may but keep the sun in my eyes,
yet ne’er have the scald of its face on mine,
but with brighter day, shed thru’ wider skies;
I beg you now, dear heart, for love awakes,
allow my soul the joy your need forsakes.