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Henry King - Tell Me No More How Fair She Is
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TELL me no more how fair she is,   
  I have no minde to hear   
The story of that distant bliss   
  I never shall come near:   
By sad experience I have found 
That her perfection is my wound.   
   
And tell me not how fond I am   
  To tempt a daring Fate,   
From whence no triumph ever came,   
  But to repent too late: 
There is some hope ere long I may   
In silence dote my self away.   
   
I ask no pity (Love) from thee,   
  Nor will thy justice blame,   
So that thou wilt not envy me
  The glory of my flame:   
Which crowns my heart when ere it dyes,   
In that it falls her sacrifice.
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