Who gaze upon the Sun , are brought
To paint it fairer, in their Thought.
The Glorie , which their Eyes does blind,
Let brighter thus into their Mind ,
Does make a clearer Day , break out
Within, while all is Night without.
Her Shape , seen thus by inward Light ,
While Sleep , drew Curtains o're my Sight;
Did but that Image , then restore,
Which waking Eyes , ador'd before,
And closing full of her , withdrew,
And kept the Object , still in view.

 Though Faces seen but once, we find
Copied , in th' all-resembling Mind .
And some, the Mem'ry shows more plain ,
Keeps fresh , and longer does retain.
Some soon blots out , in a lost Thought ,
'Cause first in fading Colours wrought.
Their Lines worn out, till a Review ,
Does varnish o're their Stroaks anew.
No Mem'ry sure, like mine, e're prov'd
So constant , to the Face it lov'd .
She entertains my Sight all Day ,
And does all Night , before me stray.
The fairest Light , I waking view,
And th' Angel , in my Visions too.
I have no Thought , but of my Love,
All others, she does far remove,
And makes them give place, and resign,
That she may thus be wholly mine.

 But if the World at large is seen,
In the Minds Looking-Glass within .
How comes it then, that mine alone,
Of many Shapes , reflects but one?
Alas! it is but reason, she
Should be a single World , to me.
Since others, in their greater Store,
That World divided , but adore,
Which I in her contracted view,
Who, ev'ry day seems to me new .
While She, in one shape , does unite
All that is fair, divine , or bright .