If I could write the beauty of your eyes
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
Fed in heart, whose flames aspire
so near the heart as your gesture cries
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder
Which weighs upon the heart?
As closely to conceal what we impart:
Would use his heaven for thunder
To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder
In process of the seasons have I seen
What, can you do me greater harm than hate?
Something that hath a reference to my state
To cast thee up again. What may this mean
In process of the seasons have I seen
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange
their wills count bad what I think good?
By grief and blushes, aptly understood
The allusion holds in the exchange.
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange
That only like a gulf it did remain
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
just so much as you may take a knife
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
That only like a gulf it did remain
Note me this, good friends;
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Nor this I have not, brothers, sisters, so denied,
A good traveler for something latter to end
Note me this, oh good, good fellow friends