The poem
THe souerayne beauty which I doo admyre, witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed: the light wherof hath kindled heauenly iyre, in my fraile spirit by her from basenesse raysed. That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed, base thing I can no more endure to view: but looking still on her I stand amazed, at wondrous sight of so celestiall hew. So when my toung would speak her praises dew, it stopped is with thoughts astonishment: and when my pen would write her titles true, it rauisht is with fancies wonderment: Yet in my hart I then both speake and write, the wonder that my wit cannot endite.