Oft do I muse whether my Delia's eyes 
Are eyes, or else two fair bright stars that shine; 
For how could nature ever thus devise 
Of earth on earth a substance so divine. 
Stars sure they are, whose motions rule desires, 
And calm and tempest follow their aspects; 
Their sweet appearing still such power inspires 
That makes the world admire so strange effects. 
Yet whether fixt or wand'ring stars are they, 
Whose influence rule the Orb of my poor heart; 
Fixt sure they are, but wan'ring make me stray, 
In endless errors whence I cannot part. 
Stars then, not eyes, move yet with milder view 
Your sweet aspect on him that honors you.