Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
DianaThe Sixth Decade. Sonnet X. My God, my God, how much I love my goddess!
Henry Constable (1562–1613)M
Whose virtues rare, unto the heavens arise.
My God, my God, how much I love her eyes!
One shining bright, the other full of hardness.
My God, my God, how much I love her wisdom!
Whose works may ravish heaven’s richest “maker.”
Of whose eyes’ joys, if I might be partaker;
Then to my soul, a holy rest would come.
My God, how much I love to hear her speak!
Whose hands I kiss, and ravished oft rekisseth;
When she stands wotless, whom so much she blesseth.
Say then, What mind this honest love would break;
Since her perfections pure, withouten blot.
Makes her beloved of them, she knoweth not?