WS (1602 - 1644 / England)

Chloris In The Snow

I SAW fair Chloris walk alone,
When feather'd rain came softly down,
As Jove descending from his Tower
To court her in a silver shower:
The wanton snow flew to her breast,
Like pretty birds into their nest,
But, overcome with whiteness there,
For grief it thaw'd into a tear:
   Thence falling on her garments' hem,
   To deck her, froze into a gem.

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