Sonnet 14: Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, Or say with princes if it shall go well By oft predict that I in heaven find: But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art As truth and beauty shall together thrive If from thy self to store thou wouldst convert: Or else of thee this I prognosticate, Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.