HOWE comely hath Godde made her be, Gracióus and goode and fair of moulde That every man her doth beholde Must prayse her soul's consistencie. For who could tire of such as she Whose lovelinesse doth aye unfolde? Howe comely hath Godde made her be, Gracióus and goode and fair of moulde. Nor can I fynde by lande or sea, Or virgin maid or matron olde As doth such perfect graces holde; The thought of her is dream to me: Howe comely hath Godde made her be! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: A SUBTERRANEAN CITY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 19. THE FAIRY QUEEN PROSERPINA by THOMAS CAMPION ROUEN; 26 APRIL - 25 MAY 1915 by MAY WEDDERBURN CANNAN ON HEARING A LITTLE MUSIC-BOX by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT THE BRONCHO THAT WOULD NOT BE BROKEN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY |