Sonnet 69

Close parts of thee waft close within my view
Bare oh thing where heart's thought the tongues would wend
All tongues, the voice of souls, give us to do
Utterly bare truth will seek each his end

Thy inward thrust with outward praise is grown
By the same tongue that give thee so thy moan
In other accents would this phrase be blown
Thy turn return me what thee I hath shown

I drink in beauty thine within my mind
As thee fullfill my measure with thy deeds
Thy tongue givest pleasures me, O most kind
To thy fair flower spray of salty seeds

Above and below where doth mirror show
They shrink away where did formerly grow