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Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still:Though her bright glance should wander, though it err& wound me, it shall be forgiven her;Yea, lov’d is the Belovéd though she kill.Though should love’s light’ning ravage & consumeFaith’s harvest, & the garner of the wise,Reproach not nor upbraid her: those bright eyesHave right all to destroy, that all illume.Betwixt love’s roses should no sharpness be:Though not uncruel, not unblameworthyWast thou, O sweet Love, blame thou only myBlemish, let not remorse endolour thee.Yea, censure not afflicting love: thy partIs but forgiveness, O long-patient heart!
Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still:Though her bright glance should wander, though it err& wound me, it shall be forgiven her;Yea, lov’d is the Belovéd though she kill.Though should love’s light’ning ravage & consumeFaith’s harvest, & the garner of the wise,Reproach not nor upbraid her: those bright eyesHave right all to destroy, that all illume.Betwixt love’s roses should no sharpness be:Though not uncruel, not unblameworthyWast thou, O sweet Love, blame thou only myBlemish, let not remorse endolour thee.Yea, censure not afflicting love: thy partIs but forgiveness, O long-patient heart!
Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still:Though her bright glance should wander, though it err& wound me, it shall be forgiven her;Yea, lov’d is the Belovéd though she kill.
Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still:
Though her bright glance should wander, though it err
& wound me, it shall be forgiven her;
Yea, lov’d is the Belovéd though she kill.
Though should love’s light’ning ravage & consumeFaith’s harvest, & the garner of the wise,Reproach not nor upbraid her: those bright eyesHave right all to destroy, that all illume.
Though should love’s light’ning ravage & consume
Faith’s harvest, & the garner of the wise,
Reproach not nor upbraid her: those bright eyes
Have right all to destroy, that all illume.
Betwixt love’s roses should no sharpness be:Though not uncruel, not unblameworthyWast thou, O sweet Love, blame thou only myBlemish, let not remorse endolour thee.
Betwixt love’s roses should no sharpness be:
Though not uncruel, not unblameworthy
Wast thou, O sweet Love, blame thou only my
Blemish, let not remorse endolour thee.
Yea, censure not afflicting love: thy partIs but forgiveness, O long-patient heart!
Yea, censure not afflicting love: thy part
Is but forgiveness, O long-patient heart!