Shepherd, who can pass such wrong,
And a life in woes so deep,
Which to live is too too long,
As it is too short to weep?

Grievous sighs in vain I waste,
Leesing my affiance, and
I perceive my hope at last
With a candle in the hand.

What time then to hope among
Bitter hopes that ever sleep,
When this life is too too long,
As it is too short to weep?

This grief, which I feel so rife,
Wretch, I do deserve as hire;
Since I came to put my life
In the hands of my desire.

Then cease not my plaints so strong;
For, though life her course doth keep,
It is not to live so long,
As it is too short to weep.