Sonnet 07 Poem by John Florio

The more I try, the less I forget,
The less I cry, the more I wet —
Alas! no pain is seen, not its flame,
It burns me down, who's to blame.
Once you belonged this poor heart,
And threw it away, you did depart.
Those times of past, so many years,
Plunge into heart, like edged spears.
If you've a heart, give me a reason,
How did you make me out of action.
Before you made my world fall apart,
Should have told me from the start.

O queen of beauty; my loved one —
Tell me once what wrong was done.