WHAT sweetness is in fruits, in nectarine, Peach, cherry, apricock, those lips of thine, Cynthia, express what colours grace the rose, The jessamine, the lily, pink, all those, Whether it be in colours, or in smells, Are emblems of thy body, which excels All flowers in purity, but can we find A flower, or herb, an emblem of thy mind? Yes, the coy shame-fac'd plant Pudesetan, Which is endu'd with sense, for if a man Come near the female, and his finger put Upon her leaf, she instantly will shut Close all her branches, as she did disdain The handling of a man, and spread again Her leaves abroad, whenas a man is gone, And she is in her earthy bed alone. This Indian plant a man may well suppose, Within the garden of thy bosom grows, Which though it be invisible hath such A property, to make thee fly my touch: And sure the plant hath such a sympathy, As that it will not close her leaves to thee; And if thou com'st, herself she will not hide, But will (more nice than she) thy touch abide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRAID CLAITH by ROBERT FERGUSSON LIMERICK by OLIVER BROOK HERFORD LAYS OF FRANCE: SONG (2) by MARIE DE FRANCE SHADOWS by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR WHEN YOU ARE OLD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |