Sonnet VII: O Had She Not Been Fair

O had she not been fair and thus unkind,

Then had no finger pointed at my lightness;

The world had never known what I do find,

And clouds obscure had shaded still her brightness.

Then had no censor's eye these lines survey'd,

Nor graver brows have judg'd my Muse so vain;

No sun my blush and error had bewray'd,

Nor yet the world had heard of such disdain.

Then had I walk'd with bold erected face;

No downcast look had signified my miss;

But my degraded hopes, with such disgrace

Did force me groan out griefs and utter this.

For, being full, should not I then have spoken,

My sense oppress'd had fail'd, and heart had broken.