Sonnet 8
I live, I die: I burn myself, I drown.
I'm hot in the extreme while suffering cold.
Life is too soft for me, too hard to hold.
My joy and heavy ache are mixed in one
At once I laugh and smile, and weep and frown
In pleasure, my heart finds great pangs and grief.
The good flies off, yet stays without relief.
At once I blossom green, and wither brown.
Thus does Love lead me on capriciously,
And when I think my lot is but more pain
With scarce a thought I find myself pain-free.
Then when I think my joy a certainty
And fortune's peak is finally my domain,
He casts me down to deep old grief again.