A daily poem #292 – November 19, 2010

A poem
by Richard Lovelace

To His Fairest Valentine, Mrs. A. L.

Come, pretty birds, present your lays,
And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
Employ’d to serve her deity:
And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
Some music to my Valentine.

Her bosom is love’s paradise,
There is no heav’n but in her eyes;
She’s chaster than the turtle-dove,
And fairer than the queen of love:
Yet all perfections do combine
To beautifie my Valentine.

She’s Nature’s choicest cabinet,
Where honour, beauty, worth and wit
Are all united in her breast.
The graces claim an interest:
All virtues that are most divine
Shine clearest in my Valentine.
And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
Employ’d to serve her deity:
And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
Some music to my Valentine.

Her bosom is love’s paradise,
There is no heav’n but in her eyes;
She’s chaster than the turtle-dove,
And fairer than the queen of love:
Yet all perfections do combine
To beautifie my Valentine.

She’s Nature’s choicest cabinet,
Where honour, beauty, worth and wit
Are all united in her breast.
The graces claim an interest:
All virtues that are most divine
Shine clearest in my Valentine.

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~ by Chris Hibbard on November 19, 2010.

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