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(jlCOF)
So is it not with
Stirred by a painted
And every fair with
With April's first-born
flowers and all things rare
his fair
That heaven's air
in this huge rondure hems
beauty to his verse
doth rehearse
O let me true in love
but truly write and
Making a couplement of
then believe me
my love is as fair as
me as with that Muse
Who heaven itself for
proud compare
any mother's child
though not so bright as
With sun and
those gold candles
fixed in heaven s air
ornament doth use
moon with earth
Let them say more that
like of hearsay well
and sea's rich gems
I will not praise that purpose
not to sell
