- Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
- So far from variation or quick change?
- Why with the time do I not glance aside
- To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?
- Why write I still all one, ever the same,
- And keep invention in a noted weed,
- That every word doth almost tell my name,
- Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?
- O! know sweet love I always write of you,
- And you and love are still my argument;
- So all my best is dressing old words new,
- Spending again what is already spent:
- For as the sun is daily new and old,
- So is my love still telling what is told.