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To Mrs. Diana Cecyll.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To Mrs. Diana Cecyll.

Diana Cecyll, that rare beauty thou dost show
Is not of Milk, or Snow,
Or such as pale and whitely things do ow.
But an illustrious Oriental Bright,
Like to the Diamonds refracted light,
Or early Morning breaking from the Night.

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Nor is thy hair and eyes made of that ruddy beam,
Or golden-sanded stream,
Which we find still the vulgar Poets theme,
But reverend black, and such as you would say,
Light did but serve it, and did shew the way,
By which at first night did precede the day.
Nor is that symmetry of parts and form divine
Made of one vulgar line,
Or such as any know how to define,
But of proportions new so well exprest,
That the perfections in each part confest,
Are beauties to themselves, and to the rest.
Wonder of all thy Sex! let none henceforth inquire
Why they so much admire,
Since they that know thee best ascend no higher;
Only be not with common praises woo'd
Since admiration were no longer good,
When men might hope more then they understood.