Sparkatale

Behold, upon the sun kiss'd window there!

It is my lady, fairer than that sun,

But soft! For she be fairer than that word—'fair',

Her heart is gold, and purer there be none.

Yet many maidens be of high estate,

Their beauty sought by Jasons higher still;

In their conditions, crossing lands to state

Their love-lays, blazing forth their lusty will.

But though my lady be my golden fleece,

Her beauty be but faithful love's disguise,

I love her for her grace and gentle peace,

For Cupid sees with mind and not the eyes.

Tis golden lads and maids that draw love's gaze,

But hearts doth favour men of virtuous ways.