"THERE IS NONE, O NONE BUT YOU"
There is none, O none but you,
That from me estrange the sight,
Whom mine eyes affect to view,
And chained ears hear with delight.
Other beauties others move:
In you I all graces find;
Such is the effect of Love,
To make them happy that are kind.
Women in frail beauty trust,
Only seem you fair to me:
Still prove truly kind and just,
For that may not dissembled be.
Sweet, afford me then your sight,
That, surveying all your looks,
Endless volumes I may write,
And fill the world with envied books:
Which, when after-ages view,
All shall wonder and despair,—
Woman, to find a man so true,
Or man, a woman half so fair!
Thomas Campion [?—1619]