William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Elizabethan Verse. 1907.
To Roses in the Bosom of CastaraWilliam Habington (16051654)
Y
In the chaste nunnery of her breasts—
For he’d profane so chaste a fair,
Whoe’er should call them Cupid’s nests.
How rich a perfume do ye yield!
In some close garden cowslips so
Are sweeter than i’ th’ open field.
From the rude blasts of wanton breath!—
Each hour more innocent and pure,
Till you shall wither into death.
Your glorious sepulchre shall be.
There wants no marble for a tomb
Whose breast hath marble been to me.