Sometimes I fain would find in thee some fault, br That I might love thee still in spite of it: br Yet how should our Lord Love curtail one whit br Thy perfect praise whom most he would exalt? br Alas! he can but make my heart's low vault br Even in men's sight unworthier, being lit br By thee, who thereby show'st more exquisite br Like fiery chrysoprase in deep basalt. br Yet will I nowise shrink; but at Love's shrine br Myself within the beams his brow doth dart br Will set the flashing jewel of thy heart br In that dull chamber where it deigns to shine: br For lo! in honour of thine excellencies br My heart takes pride to show how poor it is.