Sonnet 4: Diodati, and I’ll tell you with wonder,

Diodati, and I’ll tell you with wonder,
That shy I who used to despise love
And he often laughed at me about his bonds
I already fell, where man always gets caught.
No golden braids, no crimson cheeks
They dazzle me, yes, but under a new idea
Pilgrim beauty that blesses the heart,
Tall honest posture, and in the eyelashes
That serene splendor of lovely black,
Words adorned with more than one tongue,
It is the singing that crosses the hemisphere
The tiring Moon can well lead astray,
And from his eyes comes such great fire
That waxing my ears is of little use to me.