Nay let me weep

Nay, let me weep, tho' others' tears be spent
Though all eyes dried be, let mine be wet
Unto thy grave I'll pay this yearly rent
Thy lifeless corse demands of me this debt
I owe more tears than ever corse did crave
I'll pay more tears than e'er was paid to grave

Ne'er let the sun with his deceiving light
Seek to make glad these wat'ry eyes of mine
My sorrow suits with melancholy night
I joy in dole, in languishment I pine
My dearest friend is set, he was my sun
With whom my mirth, my joy, and all is done

Yet if that age had frosted o'er his head
Or if his face had furrow'd been with years
I would not so bemoan that he is dead
I might have been more niggard of my tears;
But O the sun new rose is gone to bed
And lilies in their springtime hang their head