Monday, April 13, 2009

My lady's presence makes the roses red by Henry Constable's

My lady's presence makes the roses red,
Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
The lily's leaves, for envy, pale became,
And her white hands in them this envy bred.
The marigold the leaves abroad doth spread,
Because the sun's and her power is the same.
The violet of purple color came.
Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.
In brief: all flowers from her their virtue take;
From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed;
The living heat which her eyebeams doth make
Warmth the ground and quickened the seed.
The rain, wherewith she watered the flowers,
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.


To: professor
From: pharah Dubuisson Lefevre
Class 206 British literature