Sonnet 79 (Spenser)

by Edmund Spenser

Sonnet LXXIX

MEN call you fayre, and you doe credit it,
  For that your selfe ye dayly such doe see:
  but the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,
  and vertuous mind is much more praysd of me.
For all the rest, how euer fayre it be,
  shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew:
  but onely that is permanent and free
  from frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.
That is true beautie: that doth argue you
  to be diuine and borne of heauenly seed:
  deriu'd from that fayre Spirit, from whom all true
  and perfect beauty did at first proceed.
He only fayre, and what he fayre hath made,
  all other fayre lyke flowres vntymely fade.