Sonnet 20 - Rufus Wainwright

A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted

Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion

A woman’s gentle heart but not acquainted

With shifting change as is false women’s fashion

An eye more bright than theirs less false in rolling

Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth

A man in hue all hues in his controlling

Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth

And for a woman wert thou first created

Till Nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting

And by addition me of thee defeated

By adding one thing to my purpose nothing

But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure

Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure