Mary Wroth
The Crown Sonnets
How blest be they then, who his favours prove
A life whereof the birth is just desire,
Breeding sweet flames which hearts invite to move
In those loved eyes which kindles Cupid's fire,
And nurse his longings with his thoughts entire,
Fixed on the heat of wishes formed by love,
Yet as where fire destroys this doth respire,
Increase, and foster all delights above;
Love will a painter make you, such, as you
Shall able be to draw your only dear
More lively, perfect, lasting, and more true
Than rarest workmen, and to you more near,
These be the least, then needs must all confess
He that shuns love doth love himself the less.