They say that shadows of deceased ghosts

Do haunt the houses and the graves about,

Of such whose life’s lamp went untimely out,

Delighting still in their forsaken hosts:

So, in the place where cruel Love doth shoot

The fatal shaft that slew my love’s delight,

I stalk, and walk, and wander day and night,

Even like a ghost with unperceived foot.

But those light ghosts are happier far than I,

For, at their pleasure, they can come and go

Unto the place that hides their treasure so,

And see the name with their fantastic eye:

Where I, alas, dare not approach the cruel

Proud moment that doth enclose my jewel.