Classic Poem

Stella, while now by honor's cruel might
I am from you (light of my life) misled,
And that fair you, my sun, thus overspread
With absence' veil, I live in sorrow's night,
If this dark place yet show, like candle-light,
Some beauty's piece (as amber-color'd head,
Milk hands, rose cheeks, or lips more sweet, more red
Or seeing jets, black but in blackness bright).
They please, I do confess, they please mine eyes.
But why? Because of you they models be,
Models such be wood-globes of glist'ring skies.
Dear, therefore be not jealous over me,
If you hear that they seem my heart to move;
Not them, O no, but you in them I love.