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Poem	My Fair, if thou wilt register my love, A world of volumes shall thereof arise; Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove A second flood, down-raining from mine eyes. Note by my sighs, and thine eyes shall behold The sunbeams smother'd with immortal smoke; And if by thee my prayers may be enroll'd, They Heav'n and Earth to pity shall provoke. Look thou into my breast, and thou shalt see Chaste holy vows for my soul's sacrifice, That soul, sweet Maid, which so hath honor'd thee, Erecting trophies to thy sacred eyes, Those eyes to my heart shining ever bright, When darkness hath obscur'd each other light.
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