Sonnet XI

And therefore if to love can be desert,

I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale

As these you see, and trembling knees that fail

To bear the burden of a heavy heart,

This weary minstrel-life that once was girt

To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail

To pipe now 'gainst the woodland nightingale

A melancholy music!.. why advert

To these things? O Beloved, it is plain

I am not of thy worth nor for thy place:

And yet because I love thee, I obtain

From that same love this vindicating grace,

To live on still in love and yet in vain,..

To bless thee yet renounce thee to thy face.