Noe more unto my thoughts appeare

 NOE more unto my thoughts appeare, 
 Att least appeare lesse fayre, 
For crazy tempers justly feare 
 The goodnesse of the ayre; 

Whilst your pure Image hath a place 5 
 In my impurer Mynde, 
Your very shaddow is the glasse 
 Where my defects I finde.
 

Shall I not fly that brighter light 
 Which makes my fyres looke pale, 10 
And put that vertue out of sight 
 Which makes myne none att all? 

No, no, your picture doeth impart 
 Such valew I not wish 
The native worth to any heart 15 
 That 's unadorn'd with this.
 

Though poorer in desert I make 
 My selfe whilst I admyre, 
The fuell which from hope I take 
 I give to my desire.
 20 

If this flame lighted from your Eyes 
 The subject doe calcine, 
A Heart may bee your sacrifice 
 Too weake to bee your shrine.

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