Poems &c. By James Shirley | ||
To one that said his Mistris was old.
Tell me not Time hath plaid the ThiefUpon her beauty, my belief
Might have been mock'd, and I had been
An Heretick, if I had not seen,
My Mistris is still fair to me,
And now I all those graces see
That did adorn her Virgin brow;
Her eye hath the same flame in't now,
17
Equally burns; so my desire:
Not any Rose-bud lesse within
Her cheek, the same snow on her chin:
Her voice that heavenly musick bears,
First charm'd my soul, and in my eares
Did leave it trembling, her lips are
The self same lovely Twinnes they were:
After so many yeers I misse
No Flower in all my Paradise.
Time, I despise thy rage, and thee,
Theeves do not alwaies thrive, I see.
Poems &c. By James Shirley | ||