Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLIV

Belovèd, thou hast brought me many flowersPlucked in the garden, all the summer through,And winter, and it seemed as if they grewIn this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.So, in the like name of that love of ours,Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,And which on warm and cold days I withdrewFrom my heart's ground. Indeed, those beds and bowersBe overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,And wait thy weeding; yet here's eglantine,Here's ivy!-take them, as I used to doThy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true,And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine.