Sonet

Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin,

Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie;

Like til a leaf that fallis from a tree,

Or til a reed ourblawin with the win.

Twa gods guides me: the ane of tham is blin,

Yea and a bairn brocht up in vanitie;

The next a wife ingenrit of the sea,

And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin

Unhappy is the man for evermair

That tills the sand and sawis in the air;

But twice unhappier is he, I lairn,

That feidis in his hairt a mad desire,

And follows on a woman throw the fire,

Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn.