Fret not for Aphrodite is my muse
and with constancy guides mine thoughts and pen,
for thy beauty is hers for her to use
as she doth list, and she doth choose, and when;
and now is the hour that she speaks to me
but not an hour belonging to our time,
an eternal hour so the world can see
that she is true, as I to you, in rhyme.
And not for the world would I write thee wrong
for to my muse I am at her command,
so who will say I will not sing my song
with my true muse and you both near at hand?
So let this sonnet sing out to the world
on paper new or paper old and curl'd.