I took the stars, plucked one by one
And gave to you, but all in vain:
I blew in storms to block the sun;
The bane of time now child’s proclaim:
The spin of earth, too fast for fun,
Oh poor woman, do you hide pain?

Is it behind your summer eyes?
Perhaps beneath that honey hair,
Or creeps between those pleasant sighs
Which sound so smoothly through the air?
Or stuffed below witty replies
That come by the night without care?

O such beauty! She’s no evil:
Laugh too innocent, heart too pure,
A walk so calm impatience boils
Under her seductive nature.
Rapture in my love’s perfect coil!
Alas, she is all, all is sure.