Sonnet XXVII. The crystal streams, wherein my Love did swim

Giles Fletcher (1586?–1623)

THE CRYSTAL streams, wherein my Love did swim,

Melted in tears, as partners of my woe;

Her shine was such as did the fountain dim,

The pearl-like fountain, whiter than the snow.

Then, like perfume resolvèd with a heat,

The fountain smoked, as if it thought to burn.

A wonder strange to see the cold so great,

And yet the fountain into smoke to turn.

I searched the cause, and found it to be this:

She touched the water, and it burnt with love.

Now, by her means, it purchased hath that bliss

Which all diseases quickly can remove.

Then if, by you, these streams thus blessèd be:

Sweet, grant me love; and be not worse to me!