Depreciating Her Beauty

I love not thy perfections. When I hear 
Thy beauty blazoned, and the common tongue 
Cheapening with vulgar praise a lip, an ear, 
A cheek that I have prayed to;—when among 
The loud world’s gods my god is noised and sung, 
Her wit applauded, even her taste, her dress, 
Her each dear hidden marvel lightly flung 
At the world’s feet and stripped to nakedness— 
Then I despise thy beauty utterly, 
Crying, “Be these your gods, O Israel!” 
And I remember that on such a day 
I found thee with eyes bleared and cheeks all pale, 
And lips that trembled to a voiceless cry, 
And that thy bosom in my bosom lay.