Dear, I to thee this diamond commend,
In which a model of thyself I send.
How just unto thy joints this circlet sitteth,
So just thy face and
shape my fancy fitteth.
The touch will try this ring of purest gold,
My
touch tries thee, as pure though softer mold.
That metal precious is, the
stone is true,
As true, and then how much more precious you.
The gem is
clear, and hath nor needs no foil,
Thy face, nay more, thy fame is free from
soil.
You'll deem this dear, because from me you have it,
I deem your
faith more dear, because you gave it.
This pointed diamond cuts glass and
steel,
Your love's like force in my firm heart I feel.
But this, as all things else, time wastes with
wearing,
Where you my jewels multiply with
bearing.