In Praise of His Mistress

You that will a wonder know,
Go with me;
Two suns in a heaven of snow
Both burning be:
All they fire, that but eye them,
But the snow's unmelted by them.

Leaves of crimson tulips met,
Guide the way
Where two pearly rows be set,
As white as day:
When they part themselves asunder,
She breathes oracles of wonder.

Hills of milk, with azure mix'd,
Swell beneath,
Waving sweetly, yet still fix'd,
While she doth breathe:
From those hills descends a valley,
Where all fall, that dare to dally.

As fair pillars, under stand
Statues two;
Whiter than the silver swan
That swims in Po:
If at any time they move her,
Every step begets a lover.

All this but the casket is,
Which contains
Such a jewel, as the miss
Breeds endless pains;
That's her mind, and they that know it,
May admire, but cannot show it.
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