Ye wastefull woodes beare witnesse of my woe, 
Wherein my plaints did oftentimes re-sound:
Ye carelesse byrds are priuie to my cryes,
Which in your songs were wont to make a part:
Thou pleasaunt spring hast luld me oft a sleepe,
Whose streames my trickling teares did ofte augment.

Resort of people doth my greefs augment,
The walled townes do worke my greater woe:
The forest wide is fitter to re-sound
The hollow Echo of my carefull cryes,
I hate the house, since thence my loue did part,
Whose waylefull want debarres myne eyes from sleepe.

Let stremes of teares supply the place of sleepe:
Let all that sweete is, voyd: and all that may augment
My doole, drawe neare. More meete to wayle my woe,
Bene the wild woddes my sorrowes to re-sound,
Then bedde, or bowre, both which I fill with cryes,
When I them see so waist, and fynd no part

Of pleasure past. Here will I dwell a-part
In gastful groue therefore, till my last sleepe
Doe close mine eyes: so shall I not augment
With sight of such a chaunge my recklesse woe:
Helpe me, ye banefull byrds, whose shrieking sound
Ys signe of dreery death, my deadly cryes

Most ruthfully to tune. And as my cryes
(Which of my woe cannot bewray least part)
You heare all night, when nature craueth sleepe,
Increase, so let your yrksome yells augment.
Thus all the night in plaints, the daye in woe
I vowed haue to wayst, till safe and sound

She home returne, whose voyces siluer sound
To cheerefull songs can chaunge my cherelesse cryes.
Hence with the Nightingale will I take part,
That blessed byrd, that spends her time of sleepe
In songs and plaintiue pleas, the more t-augment
The memory of hys misdeede, that bred her woe:

And you that feele no woe, | when as the sound
Of these my nightly cryes | ye heare a-part,
Let breake your sounder sleepe | and pitie augment.