Faire one, you did on mee bestow
Comparisons too sweet to owe.
And, but I found them sent from You,
I durst not think they could be true.
But 'tis your uncontrolled Power
Goddess-like to produce a flower,
And by your breath, without more seed,
Make that a Pink which was a Weed.
Because I would be loath to misse
So sweet a Metamorphosis,
Upon what stalk soe're I grow
Disdaine not You somtimes to blow,
And cherish by your Virgin Ey
What in your frowne would droop and dy.
So shall my thankfull Leaf repay
Perfumed wishes ev'ry day:
And o're your fortune breath a spell,
Which may his Obligation tell,
Who, though he nought but Aire can give,
Must ever your (Sweet) Creature live.