Lord Herbert of Cherbury (1583–1648)

BREAKING from under that thy cloudy veil,

Open and shine yet more, shine out more clear,

Thou glorious, golden-beam-darting hair,

Even till my wonder-stricken senses fail.

Shoot out in light, and shine those rays on far,

Thou much more fair than is the Queen of Love

When she doth comb her in her sphere above,

And from a planet turns a blazing star.

Nay, thou art greater too! More destiny

Depends on thee, than on her influence;

No hair thy fatal hand doth now dispence

But to some one a thread of life must be.

While gracious unto me, thou both dost sunder

Those glories which, if they united were,

Might have amazèd sense, and shew’st each hair

Which, if alone, had been too great a wonder.

But stay! methinks new beauties do arise

While she withdraws these glories which were spread;

Wonder of beauties! set thy radiant head,

And strike out day from thy yet fairer eyes.