Delia: Sonnet 12

MY spotlesse loue hoouers with purest wings,
About the temple of the proudest frame:
Where blaze those lights fayrest of earthly things, which cleer our clowded world with brightest flame.
M'ambitious thoughts confined in her face,
Affect no honour but what she can giue,
My hopes doe rest in limits of her grace,
I weigh no comfort vnlesse she relieue.
For she that can my hart imparadize,
Holds in her fairest hand what deerest is,
My fortunes wheele's the circle of her eyes,
Whose rowling grace deigne once a turne of blis.
All my liues sweet consists in her alone,
So much I loue the most vnlouing one.