Mary Wroth
Most blessed Night, the happy time for love,
The shade for Lovers and their love's delight,
The reign of Venus' servants, free from spite,
The hopeful season, for joy's sports to move;
Now hast thou made thy glory higher prove
Than did the God, whose pleasant reed did smite
All Argus' eyes into a deathlike night
Till they were safe, that love could none reprove,
But thou hast closed those eyes from prying sight
That nourish jealousy more than joy's right
While vain suspicion fosters their mistrust,
Making sweet sleep to master all suspect
Which else their private fears would not neglect
But would embrace both blinded, and unjust.