Sometimes I fain would find in thee some fault, That I might love thee still in spite of it: Yet how should our Lord Love curtail one whit Thy perfect praise whom most he would exalt? Alas! he can but make my heart`s low vault Even in men`s sight unworthier, being lit By thee, who thereby show`st more exquisite Like fiery chrysoprase in deep basalt. Yet will I nowise shrink; but at Love`s shrine Myself within the beams his brow doth dart Will set the flashing jewel of thy heart In that dull chamber where it deigns to shine: For lo! in honour of thine excellencies My heart takes pride to show how poor it is.SourceThe script ran 0.004 seconds.
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