Beauty, Time, and Love
Sonnet I

Fair is my Love and cruel as she's fair;

Her brow-shades frown, although her eyes are sunny.

Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair,

And her disdains are gall, her favours honey:

A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour,

Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love;

The wonder of all eyes that look upon her,

Sacred on earth, design'd a Saint above.

Chastity and Beauty, which were deadly foes,

Live reconciléd friends within her brow;

And had she Pity to conjoin with those,

Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?

For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,

My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind.