Analysis of Sonnet 62

My excuses to the rose I don't behold.
"My pardon me," the sun I hate when shines.
But I'm in gladness active not and cold.
My zero love in life my soul quite whines.
Forgive me words to moon I much dislike.
Please, understand, you bird, your singing is noise.
Today my lonely life does my heart strike,
And this my senses all, no doubt, destroys.
Oh, nature things, my seeing you a weed
Take it not bad; I am a human tear.
I want to cut myself till death I bleed.
My life is pain in ways immense and clear.
My sorry words and cry to all these things
That even heaven sorrow to me brings.