| WHOE'ER she be, | |
| That not impossible she, | |
| That shall command my heart and me : | |
| |
| Where'er she lie, | |
| Lock'd up from mortal eye, | 5 |
| 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 | 10 |
| Idea take a shrine | |
| Of crystal flesh, through which to shine : | |
| |
| Meet you her, my Wishes, | |
| Bespeak her to my blisses, | |
| And be ye call'd my absent kisses. | 15 |
| |
| I wish her beauty, | |
| That owes not all its duty | |
| To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie. | |
| |
| Something more than | |
| Taffata or tissue can, | 20 |
| Or rampant feather, or rich fan. | |
| |
| More than the spoil | |
| Of shop, or silkworm's toil, | |
| Or a bought blush, or a set smile. | |
| |
| A face, that's best | 25 |
| By its own beauty dress'd, | |
| And can alone command the rest. | |
| |
| A face, made up | |
| Out of no other shop, | |
| Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. | 30 |
| |
| A cheek, where youth | |
| And blood, with pen of truth, | |
| Write what the reader sweetly rueth. | |
| |
| A cheek, where grows | |
| More than a morning rose, | 35 |
| Which to no box his being owes. | |
| |
| Lips, where all day | |
| A lover's kiss may play, | |
| Yet carry nothing thence away. | |
| |
| Looks, that oppress | 40 |
| Their richest tires, but dress | |
| And clothe their simplest nakedness. | |
| |
| Eyes, that displace | |
| The neighbour diamond, and out-face | |
| That sunshine by their own sweet grace. | 45 |
| |
| Tresses, that wear | |
| Jewels, but to declare | |
| How much themselves more precious are. | |
| |
| Whose native ray | |
| Can tame the wanton day | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| For whose more noble smart | |
| Love may be long choosing a dart. | |
| |
| Eyes, that bestow | |
| Full quivers on love's bow, | |
| Yet pay less arrows than they owe. | 60 |
| |
| Smiles, that can warm | |
| The blood, yet teach a charm, | |
| That chastity shall take no harm. | |
| |
| Blushes, that bin | |
| The burnish of no sin, | 65 |
| Nor flames of aught too hot within. | |
| |
| Joys, that confess | |
| Virtue their mistress, | |
| And have no other head to dress. | |
| |
| Fears, fond and slight, | 70 |
| As the coy bride's, when night | |
| First does the longing lover right. | |
| |
| Tears, quickly fled, | |
| And vain, as those are shed | |
| For a dying maidenhead. | 75 |
| |
| 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 | 80 |
| 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 | 85 |
| A challenge to his end, | |
| And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend ! | |
| |
| Sydneian showers | |
| Of sweet discourse, whose powers | |
| Can crown old winter's head with flowers. | 90 |
| |
| Soft silken hours, | |
| Open suns, shady bowers, | |
| 'Bove all—nothing within that lowers. | |
| |
| Whate'er delight | |
| Can make day's forehead bright | 95 |
| Or give down to the wings of night. | |
| |
| In her whole frame, | |
| Have Nature all the name, | |
| Art and ornament the shame. | |
| |
| Her flattery, | 100 |
| Picture and poesy, | |
| Her counsel her own virtue be. | |
| |
| I wish her store | |
| Of worth may leave her poor | |
| Of wishes ; and I wish——no more. | 105 |
| |
| Now, if Time knows | |
| That her, whose radiant brows | |
| Weave them a garland of my vows ; | |
| |
| Her, whose just bays | |
| My future hopes can raise, | 110 |
| A trophy to her present praise ; | |
| |
| Her, that dares be | |
| What these lines wish to see : | |
| I seek no further, it is she. | |
| |
| 'Tis she, and here, | 115 |
| Lo, I unclothe and clear | |
| My Wish's cloudy character ! | |
| |
| May she enjoy it, | |
| Whose merit dare aplly it, | |
| But modesty dares still deny it ! | 120 |
| |
| Such worth as this is | |
| Shall fix my flying wishes, | |
| And determine them to kisses. | |
| |
| Let her full glory, | |
| My fancies, fly before ye, | 125 |
| Be ye my fictions but—her story. |
