Alas, whence come this change of looks? If I <br />Have chang'd desert, let mine own conscience be <br />A still-felt plague, to self-condemning me: <br />Let woe gripe on my heart, shame load mine eye. <br /> <br />But if all faith, like spotless ermine lie <br />Safe in my soul, which only doth to thee <br />(As his sole object of felicity) <br />With wings of love in air of wonder fly, <br /> <br />Oh ease your hand, treat not so hard your slave: <br />In justice pains come not till faults do call. <br />Or if I needs, sweet Judge, must torments have, <br /> <br />Use something else to chasten me withal <br />Than those blest eyes, where all my hopes do dwell. <br />No doom should make one's heav'n become his hell.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-86-alas-whence-come-this-change-of-looks/
