Or for sweet sonnets so divine,

I don’t require pretty words,

Nor need a literary shrine,

Pray, don’t comment on the beauty,

Found in my hair, my smile, my face,

“Eyes like stars” mean little to me,

Surely mere speech won’t win my grace,

Good man, it’s not your gifts I want,

There are no jewels I long for,

Your material wealth don’t flaunt,

For it’s not things that I adore,

My desire, yes it is simple,

And if we are fated to be,

Keep your love for me quite ample,

With your actions prove it to me.