As wave of a sea, soul but goes a set round.
Is bottom of that sea preferred more, or top?
Is God’s shaft desired more, or shield, it to stop?
By doubts and by fears thou’lt piecemeal be torn, heart.
If thou well distinguish from joy, sorrow’s smart.
Desir’st thou to taste, then, true happiness, joy?
’Tis not thine to choose. Beauty ever’s most coy.205
Each spangle of beauty’s star outshines the moon.
To wreck a whole world’s naught to beauty’s full moon.
What is it we’re good for? To sacrifice self.