WHOEER she be
That not impossible She
That shall command my heart and me:
Whereer she lie,
Lockd up from mortal eye
In shady leaves of destiny:
Till that ripe birth
Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her fair steps to our earth:
Till that divine
Idea take a shrine
Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:
Meet you her, my Wishes,
Bespeak her to my blisses,
And be ye calld my absent kisses.
I wish her Beauty,
That owes not all its duty
To gaudy tire, or glistring shoe-tie:
Something more than
Taffata or tissue can,
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.
A Face, thats best
By its own beauty drest,
And can alone commend the rest.
A Face, made up
Out of no other shop
Than what Natures white hand sets ope.
A Cheek, where youth
And blood, with pen of truth,
Write what the reader sweetly ruth.
A Cheek, where grows
More than a morning rose,
Which to no box his being owes.
Lips, where all day
A lovers kiss may play,
Yet carry nothing thence away.
Looks, that oppress
Their richest tires, but dress
And clothe their simplest nakedness.
Eyes, that displace
The neighbour diamond, and outface
That sunshine by their own sweet
Tresses, that wear
Jewels but to declare
How much themselves more precious are:
Whose native ray
Can tame the wanton day
Of gems that in their bright shades play.
Each ruby there,
Or pearl that dare appear,
Be its own blush, be its own tear.
A well-tamed Heart,
For whose more noble smart
Love may be long choosing a dart.
Eyes, that bestow
Full quivers on loves bow,
Yet pay less arrows than they owe.
Smiles, that can warm
The blood, yet teach a charm,
That chastity shall take no harm.
Blushes, that bin
The burnish of no sin,
Nor flames of aught too hot within.
Joys, that confess
Virtue their mistress,
And have no other head to dress.
Fears, fond and slight
As the coy brides, when night
First does the longing lover right.
Days, that need borrow
No part of their good-morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.
Days, that in spite
Of darkness, by the light
Of a clear mind, are day all night.
Nights, sweet as they,
Made short by lovers play,
Yet long by th absence of the day.
Life, that dares send
A challenge to his end,
And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!
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