| |
| THOUGH the pale white within your cheeks compos’d, | |
| And doubtful light unto your eye confin’d, | |
| Though your short breath not from itself unloos’d, | |
| And careless motions of your equal mind, | |
| Argue your beauties are not all disclos’d, | 5 |
| |
| Yet as a rising beam, when first ’tis shown, | |
| Points fairer, than when it ascends more red, | |
| Or as a budding rose, when first ’tis blown, | |
| Smells sweeter far, than when it is more spread, | |
| As all things best by principles are known, | 10 |
| |
| So in your green and flourishing estate | |
| A beauty is discern’d more worthy love | |
| Than that which further doth itself dilate, | |
| And those degrees of variation prove, | |
| Our vulgar wits so much do celebrate. | 15 |
| |
| Thus though your eyes dart not that piercing blaze, | |
| Which doth in busy Lovers’ looks appear, | |
| It is because you do not need to gaze | |
| On other objects than your proper sphere, | |
| Nor wander further than to run that maze. | 20 |
| |
| So, if you want that blood which must succeed, | |
| And give at last a tincture to your skin, | |
| It is, because neither in outward deed, | |
| Nor inward thought, you yet admit that sin, | |
| For which your cheeks a guilty blush should need. | 25 |
| |
| So if your breath do not so freely flow, | |
| It is because you love not to consume | |
| That vital treasure, which you do bestow | |
| As well to vegetate as to perfume | |
| Your Virgin leaves, as fast as they do grow. | 30 |
| |
| Yet stay not here. Love for his right will call: | |
| You were not born to serve your only will, | |
| Nor can your beauty be perpetual. | |
| ’Tis your perfection for to ripen still, | |
| And to be gathered, rather than to fall. | 35 |
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