Poetry Archives

“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.”