Inbossom my head forth, lead me into silent poetry  Wretchedness leaves my eyes desired  As labouring claims those golden hairs  Come appetise my tongue to heavenly moistures  Do lend a breast to gaze upon  Have in summers past all pleasures  Or be them winded in my forehead (fill your dowry needs)  Sleepless (the sound of crashing waves)  Make thyself aroused to a flood of tears  In streaks of day, when owls do cry  And fables tread the primrose path  All that bares in fruit  Sits under the bough that blossoms  Coral lips with a pleasing tale  Touches as a flower with frost  Have like twenty kisses and bide where the billows spoke    Harrow me up with glutton lips, make good the yeast  Endeaver thyself as a whore  Then I'll take towards no pity  O sweet dames like infants of the spring