Thomas Lodge

Sonnets to Phillis. 27

      Fair eyes, whilst fearful I your fair admire,
    By unexpressèd sweetness that I gain,
    My memory of sorrow doth expire,
    And falcon-like, I tower joy's heavens amain.
      But when your suns in oceans of their glory
    Shut up their day-bright shine, I die for thought;
    So pass my joys as doth a new-played story,
    And one poor sigh breathes all delight to naught.
      So to myself I live not, but for you;
    For you I live, and you I love, but none else,
    Oh then, fair eyes, whose light I live to view,
    Or poor forlorn despised to live alone else,
      Look sweet, since from the pith of contemplation
      Love gathereth life, and living, breedeth passion.