Those amber locks are those same nets, my dear, <br />Wherewith my liberty thou didst surprise; <br />Love was the flame that fired me so near; <br />The dart transpiercing were those crystal eyes. <br />Stong is the net, and fervent is the flame; <br />Deep is the wound, my sighs do well report; <br />Yet do I love, adore, and praise the same, <br />That holds, that burns, that wounds me in this sort. <br />And list not seek to break, to quench, to heal, <br />The bond, the flame, the wound which fest'reth so; <br />By knife, by liquor, or by salve to deal; <br />So much I please to perish in my woe. <br />Yet lest long travails be above my strength, <br />Good Delia loose, quench, heal me now at length.<br /><br />Samuel Daniel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xiv-those-amber-locks/
