The Pink Skies

the present dayes m'rning pink in summ'r didst lighteth skies of wond'rous dreams as yest'rdayes wishes cometh trueth a moment in timeth to alloweth a writ'r to expresseth: alloweth liveth, loveth, and sayeth t well in precious sentences this moment f'r the most liketh a toad, uglie and venemous off the track; wh're, liketh the weav'r, at which hour such a modeleth cameth, and stoodeth in his way, t is his art yond hast sculpt'd and didst select the visageth to the tuneth with the designeth hath found? how, i wond'r, so hath changed canst the artist? and yet such is loveth, loveth so am'rous, yond mineth own loveth of theeth wilt doth i counteth a reproach, and a burden to me. w'rth to loveth me, though thou beest rareth and plain, thou hast cause’d me to dissembling mineth own fateth. Thie loveth hath didst fill mineth own heart with lighteth, hast bath'd t in dew, madeth t riseth again from death. i canst beareth t naie longeth'r; the p'rfections yond thou do’st showeth, thie sweet ennocence, thie subtleth senseth, thie tend'r kisses, and all thie manifoldst heart, wilt bringeth me near unto theeth. F'r the loveth yond doth keepeth me h'reth in this w'rldst of woe, the loveth yond doth filleth mineth own eyes and heart, so lief might naught but i taketh theeth from me; this lonelinesse shalt lief driveth me nimble-footed. only, the spelleth of thie charm, the pow'r of thie marry, a pow'r bless’d by god f'r ev'r m're, canst receiveth, the air from mineth own lips, and maketh t trueth :: 07.07.1637 ::