For crystal brows there's nought within ; Give me, instead of Beauty's bust, One in whose gentle bosom I My earthly Comforter! whose love Anon. LXXXVII THE TRUE BEAUTY H' E that loves a rosy cheek But a smooth and steadfast mind, Kindle never-dying fires: - Where these are not, I despise T. Carew LXXXVIII TO DIANEME SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes Which starlike sparkle in their skies; R. Herrick LXXXIX G O, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young In deserts, where no men abide, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share E. Waller D XC TO CELIA RINK to me only with thine eyes, Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I sent thee late a rosy wreath, It could not wither'd be ; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee! B. Jonson XCI CHERRY-RIPE HERE is a garden in her face THE Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ; There cherries grow that none may buy, Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry. Those cherries fairly do enclose Which when her lovely laughter shows, Her eyes like angels watch them still ; A XCII THE POETRY OF DRESS I SWEET disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness: A lawn about the shoulders thrown An erring lace, which here and there A winning wave, deserving note, A careless shoe-string, in whose tie Do more bewitch me, than when art R. Herrick W XCIII 2 HENAS in silks my Julia goes Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows That liquefaction of her clothes. Next, when I cast mine eyes and see O how that glittering taketh me! R. Herrick XCIV 3 Y Love in her attire doth shew her wit, My in For every season she hath dressings fit, For Winter, Spring, and Summer. No beauty she doth miss When all her robes are on: But Beauty's self she is When all her robes are gone. Anon. |