BEAUTIES, have ye seen this toy, Called love, a little boy Almost naked, wanton, blind, Cruel now, and then as kind? If he be amongst ye, say! He is Venus' runaway. He hath of marks about him plenty; Ye shall know him among twenty; All his body is a fire, And his breath a flame entire, That, being shot like lightning in, Wounds the heart, but not the skin. He doth bear a golden bow, And a quiver, hanging low, Full of arrows, that outbrave Dian's shafts, where, if he have Any head more sharp than other, With that first he strikes his mother. Trust him not: his words, though sweet, Seldom with his heart do meet; All his practice is deceit, Every gift is but a bait; Not a kiss but poison bears, And most treason in his tears. If by these ye please to know him, Beauties, be not nice, but show him, Though ye had a will to hide him. Now, we hope, ye'll not abide him, Since ye hear his falser play, And that he's Venus' runaway. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FATHER O'FLYNN by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES ABBEY ASAROE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM PREFACE TO ERINNA'S POEMS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE MERCHANT OF VENICE; A LEGEND OF ITALY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM ON A LETTER: 2 by MATHILDE BLIND A LETTER TO HER HUSBAND by ANNE BRADSTREET FAMILIAR EPISTLES ON A SERMON, 'OFFICE & OPERATIONS OF HOLY SPIRIT': 4 by JOHN BYROM SONG TO ONE WHO, WHEN I PRAIS'D MY MISTRESS' BEAUTY, SAID I WAS BLIND by THOMAS CAREW |