1 The sovereign beauty which I do admire,
2 Witness the world how worthy to be praised:
3 The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire
4 In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised;
5 That being now with her huge brightness dazed,
6 Base thing I can no more endure to view;
7 But looking still on her, I stand amazed
8 At wondrous sight of so celestial hue.
9 So when my tongue would speak her praises due,
10 It stopped is with thought's astonishment:
11 And when my pen would write her titles true,
12  It ravish'd is with fancy's wonderment:
13 Yet in my heart I then both speak and write
14 The wonder that my wit cannot endite.
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1 Men call you fair, and you do credit it,
2 For that your self ye daily such do see:
3 But the true fair, that is the gentle wit,
4 And vertuous mind, is much more prais'd of me.
5 For all the rest, how ever fair it be,
6 Shall turn to naught and lose that glorious hue:
7 But only that is permanent and free
8 From frail corruption, that doth flesh ensue.
9 That is true beauty: that doth argue you
10 To be divine, and born of heavenly seed:
11 Deriv'd from that fair Spirit, from whom all true
12 And perfect beauty did at first proceed.
13 He only fair, and what he fair hath made,
14 All other fair, like flowers untimely fade.
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