Page:Elizabethan sonnet-cycles.djvu/174



love, I cannot thy rare beauties place

Under those forms which many writers use:

Some like to stones compare their mistress' face;

Some in the name of flowers do love abuse;

Some makes their love a goldsmith's shop to be,

Where orient pearls and precious stones abound;

In my conceit these far do disagree

The perfect praise of beauty forth to sound.

O Chloris, thou dost imitate thyself,

Self's imitating passeth precious stones,

Or all the eastern Indian golden pelf;

Thy red and white with purest fair atones;

Matchless for beauty nature hath thee framed,

Only unkind and cruel thou art named!