Astrophel and Stella: 90

Stella, thinke not that I by verse seeke fame,Who seeke, who hope; who loue, who liue but thee;Thine eyes my pride, thy lips mine history:If thou praise not, all other praise is shame.Nor so ambitious am I, as to frameA nest of my young praise in Lawrell tree:In truth I sweare, I wish not there should beGraued in mine Epitaph a Poets name:Ne if I would, I could just title make,That any laud to me thereof should grow,Without my plumes from others wings I take.For nothing from my wit or wil doth flow,Since all my words thy beauty doth endite,And loue doth hold my hand, and makes me write.