White though ye be; yet, Lillies, know, From the first ye were not so: But Ile tell ye What befell ye; Cupid and his Mother lay In a Cloud; while both did play, He with his pretty finger prest The rubie niplet of her breast; Out of the which, the creame of light, Like to a Dew, Fell downe on you, And made ye white. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE LIVING GOD by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 14. THE COMPLAINT by MARK AKENSIDE THE BROWN GIANT by ALEXANDER ANDERSON SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 11. THE GREEK POET IN ENGLAND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: COUNTENANCE FOREBODING EVIL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |