III. Like to the blacksome Night, I may compare

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

LIKE to the blacksome Night, I may compare

My Mistress’ gown, when darkness ’plays his prize:

But her sweet face, like to the sun most fair;

When he in glory ’ginneth to arise.

Yet this no whit the other doth disgrace;

But rather doubleth Beauty in the place.

Contraries like to these set opposite,

So dainty and so pleasing in their show

To lookers on, do breed no small delight;

And pleasure great thereby to them doth grow.

O wonder strange! O solace sweet! to see

In one self subject, Night and Day to be.