O be not griev'd that these my papers should <br />Betray unto the world how fair thou art, <br />Or that my wits have show'd the best they could <br />The chastest flame that ever warmed heart. <br />Think not, sweet Delia, this shall be thy shame, <br />My Muse should sound thy praise with mournful warble; <br />How many live, the glory of whose name <br />Shall rest in ice when thine is grav'd in marble? <br />Thou mayst in after ages live esteem'd, <br />Unburied in these lines reserv'd in pureness; <br />These shall entomb those eyes that have redeem'd <br />Me from the vulgar, thee from all obscureness. <br />Although my carefull accents ne'er mov'd thee, <br />Yet count it no disgrace that I have lov'd thee.<br /><br />Samuel Daniel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xliv-o-be-not-griev-d/
