In your sterne beauty I can see <br />Whatere in Aetna wonders bee; <br />If coales out of the topp doe flye <br />Hott flames doe gush out of your eye; <br />If frost lye on the ground belowe <br />Your breast is white and cold as snowe: <br />The sparkes that sett my hart on fire <br />Refuse to melt your owne desire: <br />The frost that byndes your chilly breast <br />With double fire hath mee opprest: <br />Both heate and cold a league have made, <br />And leaving you they mee invade: <br />The hearth its proper flame withstands <br />When ice itselfe heates others hands.<br /><br />William Strode<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-his-mistresse/
