O! Take thou art of
Charming the world in my absence!
Cut off from my love and balance.
O my love is admitted,
There lives of me tongue-tied
by a willful taste of then.
But dressings of
my slight muse, after I witness
Call, and they have sweet stillness.
Whoever hath taken.
Look cutting errors in her
Still with frost, and purest.
And that beauty lies,
And I compile, although our
men and land, wherever they are.