Classic Poem

My spotlesse loue houers with purest wings,
About the Temple of the proudest frame:
Where blaze those lights fairest of earthly things,
Which cleere our clouded world with brightest flame.
M'ambitious thoughts confined in her face,
Affect no honor but what she can giue:
My hopes doe rest in limits of her grace,
I weigh no comfort vnlesse she relieue.
For she that can my heart imparadize,
Holdes in her fairest hand what dearest is,
My fortunes wheeles the circle of her eies,
Whose rowling grace deigne once a turne of blis.
All my liues sweet consists in her alone,
So much I loue the most vnlouing one.