MY Love in her attire doth show her wit, It doth so well become her; For every season she hath dressings fit, For winter, spring, and summer. No beauty she doth miss When all her robes are on; But Beauty's self she is When all her robes are gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: MAY MORNING by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET JASPER by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON LOVE BEING ALL ONE by ROBERT FROST ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST CRITIC AND POET by EMMA LAZARUS ITALIAN PICTURES: THE COSTA SAN GIORGIO by MINA LOY SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: REV. LEMUEL WILEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A FOOL, A FOUL THING, A DISTRESSFUL LUNATIC by MARIANNE MOORE |