Sonnet 1
Sporting at fancie, setting light by love,
There came a theefe, and stole away my heart,
(And therefore rob'd me of my chiefest part)
Yet cannot Reason him a felon prove.
For why his beauty (my hearts thiefe) affirmeth,
Piercing no skin (the bodies fensive wall)
And having leave, and free consent withall,
Himselfe not guilty, from love guilty tearmeth,
Conscience the Judge, twelve Reasons are the Jurie,
They finde mine eies the beutie t' have let in,
And on this verdict given, agreed they bin,
Wherefore, because his beauty did allure yee,
Your Doome is this; in teares still to be drowned,
When his faire forehead with disdain is frowned.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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