Skip to main content
P ERO is faire, but yet her face she paints;
So pictures are made faire, though boords or blocks:
I muse with coulors she her face acquaints,
And die with sallendine her sable lockes:
When those that gallop by, will say and sweare
She painted hath her face and dide her heare.
Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.