Delia

Unto the boundless ocean of thy beauty Runs this poor river, charged with streams of zeal, Returning thee the tribute of my duty, Which here my love, my youth, my plaints reveal. Here I unclasp the book of my charged soul, Where I have cast th’ accounts of all my care; Here have I summed my sighs. Here I enrol How they were spent for thee. Look, what they are. Look on the dear expenses of my youth, And see how just I reckon with thine eyes. Examine well thy beauty with my truth, And cross my cares ere greater sums arise. Read it, sweet maid, though it be done but slightly; Who can show all his love, doth love but lightly.