Sonet 83 - Poem by William Alexander
That fault on me (my Faire) no further vrge,
Nor wrest it not vnto a crooked sence,
The punishment else passeth the offence:
This fault was in it selfe too great a scourge,
Since I behoou'd to giue th'occasion place,
And could not haue the meanes to visite thee.
Could there haue come a greater crosse to me,
Then so to be sequestred from thy face?
And yet I thinke that fortune for my rest,
Though for the time it did turmoile my mind
Admit she be (as many call her) blind,
Did for the time then stumble on the best.
To looke vpon thine eyes had I presum'd,
I might haue rested by their rayes consum'd.
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