SEVEN are the Lights that wander in the skies:
And at these seven, I wonder in my Love.
To see the Moon how pale she doth arise;
Standing amazed, as though she durst not move:
So is my Sweet, much paler than the snow;
Constant her looks, those looks that cannot change.
MERCURY the next, a god sweet-tongued we know;
But her sweet voice doth wonders speak more strange.
The rising Sun doth boast him of his pride;
And yet my Love is far more fair than he.
The warlike MARS can wieldless weapons guide;
But yet that god is far more weak than She.
The lovely VENUS seemeth to be fair;
But at her best, my Love is far more bright.
SATURN, for age, with groans doth dim the air;
Whereas my Love, with smiles doth give it light.
Gaze at her brows, where heaven engrafted is;
Then sigh, and swear, There is no heaven but this.