Sonnet Cclxxviii:

There blew a breeze across the flowers, that said, 'Love is the sweetest thing which mortals know!' And so I launched my shallop in the glow Of scented morn that walked in gold and red. There came a gale that muttered overhead, 'Love is an earnest thing!' I bent me low; My face was stinging with the driving snow; I knew not where my blinded vessel sped. There rose a storm that hissed into my ear Sobs out of heaven, and laughs of hellish mirth, That made my shrinking spirit quail with fear; While a sharp voice, that nowhere had its birth, But filled all space, screamed suddenly and clear; 'Love is a wreck, like everything of earth!'