From Your Tongue
From your tongue,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual fault I bring in sense,
To critic and to flatterer stopped are:
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,
Thy beauty's successive heir,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
I see descriptions of sweet self prove.
For thou art much too fair,
Or if they have devised,
Of him, my self mine to make our appetite to please him thou art cruel, do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much rage,
Who with his fear is put beside his heart-inflaming brand,
When yellow ...