So High

So high above my fortunes sits my heart

That ‘times I fear the truth is something less.

For why would Heaven such a life impart

To feckless I? Such worthless clay undress’d

If, chance, you trust not my unfit acclaims

Still better, modesty becomes you well.

Moreover, suitors to thy love do aim

At targets near intangible as hell.

I pray that I shall ever deem it wise

To e’er thy ardor hold in such esteem

That never would I dare forget thine eyes,

Nor Cupid’s favor, which doth grant this dream.

For thou, sweet angel, I should perish straight.

If ever you did look on me with hate.

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