Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 22

SO looks an Angell on Heauns Christall Wall
As looks my Saint, or Angell in her Glasse:
Each see in each, they are Celestiall;
Hir flesh then, being Heaunly, is not Grasse:
Grasse no: ô no, though Grasse doth glad the Eie
With Ey-delighting Greennesse, its too darke
To be like her dine Serenity
That, of highst GLORY, is a flaming Spark!
Which sets the World on fire, and al therein,
Like Phaetons Pride (the Proude should I now that Story)
No Eye sees it but would lose sight to win
That Light, by which Eyes see, Sight dimd with glory!
O might mine Eies be dimd stil, with that Light
I would be nought but Eies, yet blinded quite!