Sonnet No. Fourteen Louise Labe

As long as my eyes can shed their tears Each passing day I miss you and your eyes, And my voice resisting my sobs and my sighs A little I must try to control my fears: As long as my hand can play on the strings Of my cute little lute, to sing of your charms As long as my soul is content and it warms To the fact that you know how strongly it sings. Again I am wishing that I should not die But when I feel that my eyes run dry, My small voice broken, and my hand without power, And my spirit in this, my mortal stay Can no longer show such signs of love, I pray that death darken my clearest day.