The Poems of Edmund Waller | ||
ON A BREDE OF DIVERS COLOURS,
WOVEN BY FOUR LADIES.
Twice twenty slender virgin-fingers twineThis curious web, where all their fancies shine.
As Nature them, so they this shade have wrought,
Soft as their hands, and various as their thought.
Not Juno's bird, when his fair train dispread,
He woos the female to his painted bed;
No, not the bow, which so adorns the skies,
So glorious is, or boasts so many dyes.
The Poems of Edmund Waller | ||