Classic Poem

Breaking from under that thy cloudy Vail,
Open and shine yet more, shine out more clear
Thou glorious golden-beam-darting hair,
Even till my wonderstrucken Senses fail.

Shoot out in light, and shine those Rays on far,
Thou much more fair than is the Queen of Love,
When she doth comb her in her Sphere above,
And from a Planet turns a Blazing-Star.

Nay, thou art greater too, more destiny
Depends on thee, then on her influence,
No hair thy fatal hand doth now dispence,
But to some one a thred of life must be.

While gracious unto me, thou both dost sunder
Those Glories which, if they united were,
Might have amazed sense, and shew'st each hair,
Which if alone had been too great a wonder.

And now spread in their goodly length sh' appears
No Creature which the earth might call her own,
But rather one, that in her gliding down,
Heav'ns beams did crown, to shew us she was theirs.

And come from thence, how can they fear times rage
Which in his power else on earth most strange
Such Golden treasure doth to Silver change
By that improper Alchimy of Age?

But stay, me-thinks, new Beauties do arise,
While she withdraws these Glories which were spread.
Wonder of Beauties, set thy radiant head,
And strike out day from thy yet fairer eyes.