I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, (c)
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know(e)
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare(g)
Re-pair/ me now,/ for now/ mine end/ doth haste ;
I run/ to death,/ and Death/ meets me/ as fast,
And all/ my plea/sures are/ like yes/ter-day.
I dare/ not move/ my dim/ e-yes /any way ;
Des-pair/ be-hind,/ and Death/ be-fore/ doth cast
Such te-/rror, and/ my fee-/ble flesh/ doth waste
By sin/ in it,/ which it/ to-wards hell/ doth weigh.
On-ly/ Thou art/ a-bove,/ and when/ to-wards Thee
By Thy/ leave I/ can look,/ I rise /a-gain ;
But our/ old sub-/tle foe/ so temp/teth me,
That not/ one hour/ myself/ I can /sus-tain.
Thy grace/ may wing/ me to/ pre-vent/ his art
And thou/ like ada-/mant draw /mine i-/ron heart.
Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles in all stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Reference: Sources and Analogues of English Sonnets-- Germaine Dempster