Sonnet 21
Praise and Beauty
- 1 So is it not with me as with that Muse,
- 2 Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse,
- 3 Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
- 4 And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,
- 5 Making a couplement of proud compare'
- 6 With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
- 7 With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,
- 8 That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
- 9 O! let me, true in love, but truly write,
- 10 And then believe me, my love is as fair
- 11 As any mother's child, though not so bright
- 12 As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:
- 13 Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
- 14 I will not praise that purpose not to sell.