Sonnet Xxvii Poem by E C Esquire

Sweet are the thoughts of pleasures we haue vsde,
Sweete are the thoughts that thinke of that same sweet,
Whose sweetness is too sweet to be refusde,
That vertuous loue-tast for my faith was meet:
The taste whereof is sweeter vnto me,
Then sweetest sweet that euer nature made.
No odours sweetnes may compared be
To this true sweetnes that will neuer fade.
This Sonnet sweet with cheerefull voyces sing,
And tune the same so pleasing to mine eare,
That
Emaricdulf
thy praises so may ring,
As all the world thy honors fame may heare.
Once didst thou vow, that vow to me obserue,
Whose faith and truth from thee shall neuer swerue.