Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defie, Until I labour, I in labour lie. The foe oft-times having the foe in sight, Is tir'd with standing though he never fight. Off with that girdle, like heavens Zone glittering, But a far fairer world incompassing. Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear, That th'eyes of busie fooles may be stopt there. Unlace your self, for that harmonious chyme, Tells me from you, that now it is bed time. Off with that happy busk, which I envie, That still can be, and still can stand so nigh. Your gown going off, such beautious state reveals, As when from flowry meads th'hills shadow steales. Off with that wyerie Coronet and shew The haiery Diademe which on you doth grow: Now off with those shooes, and then safely tread In this loves hallow'd temple, this soft bed. In such white robes, heaven's Angels us'd to be Receavd by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee A heaven like Mahomets Paradise; and though Ill spirits walk in white, we easly know, By this these Angels from an evil sprite, Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright. Licence my roaving hands, and let them go, Before, behind, between, above, below. O my America! my new-found-land, My kingdome, safeliest when with one man man'd, My Myne of precious stones, My Emperie, How blest am I in this discovering thee! To enter in these bonds, is to be free; Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be. Full nakedness! All joyes are due to thee, As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth'd must be, To taste whole joyes. Gems which you women use Are like Atlanta's balls, cast in mens views, That when a fools eye lighteth on a Gem, His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them. Like pictures, or like books gay coverings made For lay-men, are all women thus array'd; Themselves are mystick books, which only wee (Whom their imputed grace will dignifie) Must see reveal'd. Then since that I may know; As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew Thy self: cast all, yea, this white lynnen hence, There is no pennance due to innocence. To teach thee, I am naked first; why than What needst thou have more covering then a man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAY OF THE CONVENTICLE OF THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH BATTLE-CRIES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER MOTHER AND POET; TURIN, AFTER THE NEWS FROM GAETA, 1861 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE LOW-DOWN WHITE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by SARA TEASDALE THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN by AESOP |