Let not my love be call’d idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence,
Therefore my verse, to constancy confin’d,
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
“Fair,” “kind,” and “true” is all my argument,
“Fair,” “kind,” and “true” varying to other words,
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
“Fair,” “kind,” and “true” have often liv’d alone,
Which three till now never kept seat in one.