Beauty, Time, and Love
Sonnet III

And yet I cannot reprehend the flight

Or blame th' attempt presuming so to soar;

The mounting venture for a high delight

Did make the honour of the fall the more.

For who gets wealth, that puts not from the shore?

Danger hath honour, great designs their fame;

Glory doth follow, courage goes before;

And though th' event oft answers not the same—

Suffice that high attempts have never shame.

The mean observer, whom base safety keeps,

Lives without honour, dies without a name,

And in eternal darkness ever sleeps.—

And therefore, Delia, 'tis to me no blot

To have attempted, tho' attain'd thee not.