Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE GREEN-SICKNESS BEAUTY (1), by EDWARD HERBERT Poet's Biography First Line: Though the pale white within your cheeks compos'd Last Line: And to be gather'd rather than to fall. Alternate Author Name(s): Cherbury, 1st Baron Herbert Of; Herbert Of Cherbury, Edward Herbert, 1st Baron; Herbert Of Cherbury, Lord | ||||||||
THOUGH the pale white within your cheeks compos'd, And doubtful light unto your eye confin'd, Though your short breath not from itself unloos'd, And careless motions of your equal mind, Argue your beauties are not all disclos'd; Yet as a rising beam, when first 'tis shown, Points fairer than when it ascends more red, Or as a budding rose, when first 'tis blown, Smells sweeter far than when it is more spread; As all things best by principles are known; So in your green and flourishing estate A beauty is discern'd, more worthy love Than that which further doth itself dilate, And those degrees of variation prove, Our vulgar wits so much do celebrate. Thus, though your eyes dart not that piercing blaze Which doth in busy lovers' looks appear, It is because you do not need to gaze On other object than your proper sphere, Nor wander further than to run that maze. So, if you want that blood which must succeed, And give at last a tincture to your skin, It is because neither in outward deed Nor inward thought you yet admit that sin For which your cheeks a guilty blush should need. So, if your breath do not so freely flow, It is because you love not to consume That vital treasure which you do bestow, As well to vegetate as to perfume Your virgin leaves, as fast as they do grow. Yet stay not here, love for his right will call, You were not born to serve your only will; Nor can your beauty be perpetual: 'Tis your perfection for to ripen still, And to be gather'd rather than to fall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DITTY IN IMITATION OF THE SPANISH: ENTRE TANTO QUE L'AVRIL by EDWARD HERBERT EPITAPH FOR SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, AT ST. PAUL'S WITHOUT A MONUMENT ... by EDWARD HERBERT TO HIS WATCH, WHEN HE COULD NOT SLEEP by EDWARD HERBERT A DESCRIPTION by EDWARD HERBERT A DITTY MADE BY LORENZO ALLEGRE TO ONE SLEEPING TO BE SUNG by EDWARD HERBERT A DIVINE LOVE by EDWARD HERBERT A MEDITATION UPON HIS WAX CANDLE BURNING OUT by EDWARD HERBERT A MERRY RHYME SENT TO THE LADY WROTH .. BIRTH OF LORD PEMBROKE'S CHILD by EDWARD HERBERT |
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