Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Thomas Campion. 1567?1619168. Cherry-Ripe
THERE is a garden in her face | |
Where roses and white lilies blow; | |
A heavenly paradise is that place, | |
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow: | |
There cherries grow which none may buy | 5 |
Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry. | |
Those cherries fairly do enclose | |
Of orient pearl a double row, | |
Which when her lovely laughter shows, | |
They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow; | 10 |
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy | |
Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry. | |
Her eyes like angels watch them still; | |
Her brows like bended bows do stand, | |
Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill | 15 |
All that attempt with eye or hand | |
Those sacred cherries to come nigh, | |
Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry. |