62 Poem by Mary Wroth

Fairest and still truest eyes,
Can you the lights be, and the spies
Of my desires?
Can you shine cleare for loves delight,
And yet the breeders be of spight,
And jealous fires?

Mark what lookes doe you behold,
Such as by Jealousie are told
They want your Love.
See how they sparckle in distrust,
Which by a heate of thoughts unjust
In them doe moove.

Learne to guide your course by Art,
Change your eyes into your heart,
And patient be:
Till fruitlesse Jelousie give leave,
By safest absence to receive
What you would see.

Then let Love his triumph have,
And Suspition such a grave,
As not to moove.
While wished freedome brings that blisse
That you enjoy what all joy is
Happy to Love.