Sonnet Ii Poem by Mary Wroth

Is to leave all, and take the threed of Love,
Which line straite leades unto the soules content,
Where choice delights with pleasures wings doe move,
And idle fant'sie neuer roome had lent.
When chaste thoughts guide us, then our minds are bent
To take that good which ills from us remove:
Light of true love brings fruite which none repent;
But constant Lovers seeke and wish to prove.
Love is the shining Starre of blessings light,
The feruent fire of zeale, the roote of peace,
The lasting lampe, fed with the oyle of right,
Image of Faith, and wombe for ioyes increase.
Love is true Vertue, and his ends delight,
His flames are joyes, his bands true Lovers might.