O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks' pure skies With crimson wings which spread thee like the morn; O bashful look, sent from those shining eyes, Which, though cast down on earth, couldst heaven adorn; O tongue, in which most luscious nectar lies, That can at once both bless and make forlorn; Dear coral lip, which beauty beautifies, That trembling stood ere that her words were born; And you her words, words, no, but golden chains, Which did captive mine ears, ensnare my soul, Wise image of her mind, mind that contains A power, all power of senses to control; Ye all from love dissuade so sweetly me, That I love more, if more my love could be.