Sonnet 8
I live, I die,. I burn myself and drown. I am extremely hot in suffering cold: my life is soft and hardness uncontrolled. When I am happy, then I ache and frown. Suddenly I am laughing while I cry and in my pleasure I endure deep grief: my joy remains and slips out like a thief. Suddenly I am blooming and turn dry. So Love inconstantly leads me in vain and when I think my sorrow has no end unthinkingly I find I have no pain. But when it seems that joy is in my reign and an ecstatic hour is mine to spend, He comes and I, in ancient grief, descend.