| Who is it that, this dark night, | |
| Underneath my window plaineth? | |
| It is one who from thy sight | |
| Being, ah, exiled, disdaineth | |
| Every other vulgar light. | 5 |
| |
| Why, alas, and are you he? | |
| Be not yet those fancies changeèd? | |
| Dear, when you find change in me, | |
| Though from me you be estrangèd, | |
| Let my change to ruin be. | 10 |
| |
| Well, in absence this will die: | |
| Leave to see, and leave to wonder. | |
| Absence sure will help, if I | |
| Can learn how myself to sunder | |
| From what in my heart doth lie. | 15 |
| |
| But time will these thoughts remove; | |
| Time doth work what no man knoweth. | |
| Time doth as the subject prove: | |
| With time still the affection groweth | |
| In the faithful turtle-dove. | 20 |
| |
| What if you new beauties see? | |
| Will not they stir new affection? | |
| I will think they pictures be | |
| (Image-like, of saints' perfection) | |
| Poorly counterfeiting thee. | 25 |
| |
| But your reason's purest light | |
| Bids you leave such minds to nourish. | |
| Dear, do reason no such spite! | |
| Never doth thy beauty flourish | |
| More than in my reason's sight. | 30 |
