Tuesday, May 20, 2008

My Love in Her Attire


My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For winter, spring, and summer.
No beauty she doth miss,
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty's self she is,
When all her robes are gone.


1 comment:

dan said...

from Immortal Poems of the English Language (Oscar Williams)