Thou beauty doth raise offense to the green,
Of darling spring with all her might and hue.
Thou art more tender and all more serene.
The billow and boom doth not shake thy plume,

As do spring when let loose the gates of flood.
Spring, Unsprung and with all her glory shone,
Cannot grace this bud that is thine life food.
In dark and shade are she to you alone,

Whose voice and sheen doth light this love called mine.
Thy breath and soothing air doth spur my heart,
As spring doth sugar fill the fruit of vine.
Thy hue and image nay wish mine eye part.

In worth and merit spring doth not contend
Thy heart and heart alone doth winter mend.