THE swift Meander, turning, winds so fast,
And with his stream in circle-wise so runs;
That, wanton-like, from whence he springs, at last,
Back to his fountain-head again he comes.
In me, a river huge of tears, from heart
To watery eyes ascend; from whence they flow,
And running down, do from mine eyes depart,
Descending to my heart again below.
So that, through virtue of most mighty Love,
In heart, a new Meander I do prove.