Madrigal, Davison's Poetical Rhapsody

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.

by Anonymous

Comments (1)

Good one anonymous