Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting,
Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours,
And then behold your lips, where sweet love harbours,
My eyes present me with a double doubting.
For, viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes
Whether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses.
(John Wilbye)
More Poetry from John Wilbye:
- Lady, Your Words Do Spite Me (John Wilbye Poems)
- Love Not Me For Comely Grace (John Wilbye Poems)
- Oft Have I Vow'd How Dearly I Did Love Thee (John Wilbye Poems)