Men call you fair, and you do credit it,
For that yourself ye daily such do see:
But the true fair, that is the gentle wit,
And virtuous mind, is much more prayed of me.
For all the rest, how ever fair it be,
Shall turn to naught and loose that glorious hue:
But only that is permanent and free
From frail corruption, that doth flesh ensue.
That is true beauty: that doth argue you
To be divine and born of heavenly seed:
Deriv’d from that fair spirit, from whom all true
And perfect beauty did at first proceed.
He only fair, and what he fair hath made,
All other fair like flowers untimely fade.
I like the reminder in this poem that the Holy Spirit is the source of true, heavenly beauty. Outward forms of beauty will fade away, but the inward spiritual beauty will last forever.