Sonnet VI Fair Is My Love

Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair;

Her brow shades frowns, although her eyes are sunny;

Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair;

And her disdains are gall, her favors honey.

A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honor,

Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love,

The wonder of all eyes that look upon her,

Sacred on earth, design'd a saint above.

Chastity and Beauty, which are deadly foes,

Live reconciled friends within her brow;

And had she pity to conjoin with those,

Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?

O had she not been fair and thus unkind,

My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind.