Sonnet XI

 When among creatures fair of countenance 
Love comes enformed in such proud character, 
So far as other beauty yields to her, 
So far the breast with fiercer longing pants; 
I bless the spot, and hour, and circumstance, 
That wed desire to a thing so high, 
And say, Glad soul, rejoice, for thou and I 
Of bliss unpaired are made participants; 
Hence have come ardent thoughts and waking dreams 
That, feeding Fancy from so sweet a cup, 
Leave it no lust for gross imaginings.
 
Through her the woman's perfect beauty gleams 
That while it gazes lifts the spirit up 
To that high source from which all beauty springs.

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