Sonette XXXI
Poem (Canso): 
My slow ascent is hard and winding long
	To gain but a few feet upon this hill.
	While worry I not that my steed go ill,
	I fear that Hades hath done me great wrong
	And keep for himself that lady of song,
	Who possess greater beauty ever still
	For resting in the place where man’s heart chill.
	No soul may have a faith as rock so strong
	To deny his true love as cock thrice crows.
	Not far beyond, the dawn doth now appear,
	While weep I for the lack of her sun shows
	Within my fore-kept sight, to combat fear.
	Yet faith is not displayed in works alone:
	Within the heart hath proof of it e’er shone.