ArchivedLove
Poems

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.

.....Madrigal by Anonymous