TO DIANEME. by R. HERRICK.
| Previous Poem | Next Poem |
| TO DIANEME. | |
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes Which starlike sparkle in their skies; Nor be you proud, that you can see All hearts your captives; yours yet free: Be you not proud of that rich hair Which wantons with the lovesick air; Whenas that ruby which you wear, Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, Will last to be a precious stone, When all your world of beauty's gone. |
|
| R. HERRICK., | |
