Sonnet 76: O, Mortal Goddess of the Heavens Seized

O, Mortal Goddess of the Heavens Seized, Whose Name, pleasant, doth make my heart to quake There’s naught I would not bravely do to please Thee well, all wisdom, surety, I would forsake, If only you would draw nigh unto me... There is no better thing than that bright hope That I, once more, may see your holy face! There is no sand, wov’n into better rope Than that from which I weave my perfect grace: That I may hold thee soon against my heart, That I, thy tears may with my kerchief dry, That you will come to me by Heaven’s Art, And we will bide awhile, you and I. But if this cannot be, then I must climb The mountains’ rocky faces, turn back time.