Sonnet LXIV. Coming to kiss her lips (such grace I found)

Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)

COMING to kiss her lips (such grace I found,)

Me seemed, I smelt a garden of sweet flowers,

That dainty odours from them threw around,

For damsels fit to deck their lovers’ bowers.

Her lips did smell like unto gillyflowers;

Her ruddy cheeks, like unto roses red;

Her snowy brows, like budded bellamoures;

Her lovely eyes, like pinks but newly spread;

Her goodly bosom, like a strawberry bed;

Her neck, like to a bunch of Columbines;

Her breast, like lilies, ere their leaves be shed;

Her nipples, like young blossomed jessamines:

Such flagrant flowers do give most odorous smell;

But her sweet odour did them all excel.