A Rapture Concerning His Lady | He Compares All Things with His Lady, and Finds Them Wanting | Of His Lady Among Other Ladies | To His Lady Joan, Of Florence

A Rapture Concerning His Lady

Who is she coming, whom all gaze upon,
Who makes the air tremulous with light,
And at whose side is Love himself? that none
Dare speak, but each man's sighs are infinite.
Ah me! how she looks round from left to right,
Let Love discourse: I may not speak thereon.
Lady she seems of such high benison
As makes all others graceless in men's sight.
The honor which is hers cannot be said;
To whom are subject all things virtuous,
While all things beauteous own her diety.
Ne'er was the mind of man so nobly led
Nor yet was such redemption granted us
That we should ever know her perfectly.

He Compares All Things with His Lady, and Finds Them Wanting

Beauty in woman; the high will's decree;
Fair knighthood arm'd for manly exercise;
The pleasant song of birds; love's soft replies;
The strength of rapid ships upon the sea;
The serene air when light begins to be;
The white snow, without wind that falls and lies;
Fields of all flower; the place where waters rise;
Silver and gold; azure in jewelry:
Weigh'd agaist these, the sweet and quiet worth
Which my dear lady cherishes at heart
Might seem a little matter to be shown;
Being truly, over these, as much apart
As the whole heaven is greater than this earth.
All good to kindred natures cleaveth soon.

Of His Lady Among Other Ladies

With other women I beheld my love;
Not that the rest were women to mine eyes,
Who only as her shadows seem'd to move.

I do not praise her more than with the truth,
Nor blame I these if it be rightly read.

But while I speak, a thought I may not soothe
Says to my sense: "Soon shall ye be dead,
If for my sake your tears ye will not shed."

And then the eyes yield passage, at that thought,
To the heart's weeping, which forgets her not.

To His Lady Joan, Of Florence

Flowers hast thou in thyself, and foliage,
And what is good, and what is glad to see;
The sun is not so bright as thy visage;
All stark naught when one hath look'd on thee;
There is not such a beautiful personage
Anywhere on the green earth verily;
If one fear love, thy bearing sweet and sage
Comforteth him, and no more fear hath he.
Thy lady friends and maidens ministering
Are all, for love of thee, much to my taste:
And much I pray them that in everything
They honor thee even as thou meritest,
And have thee in their gentle harboring:
Because among them all thou art the best

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