Classic Poem

Sweet, heard you not fames latest breath rehearse
How I left hewing blocks to hack at verse,
Now growne the master Log, while others be
But shavings, and the chips of Poetry.
And thus I saw Deale-boards of beauty forth,
To make my Love a warehouse of her worth.
Her leggs are heart of Oake, and columnes stand
To beare the amorous bulke; then Muse command
That Beech be work'd for thighs unto those leggs,
Turn'd round and carv'd, and joynted fast with peggs.
Contrive her belly round, a dining roome,
When Love and Beauty will a feasting come.
Another story make from wast to chinne,
With breasts like Pots to nest young sparrowes in.
Then place the Garret of her head above,
Thatcht with a yellow haire to keep in Love.
Thus have I finisht beauties master prize
Were but the Glasier here to make her eyes.
Then gentle Muse her out-works cease to raise,
To worke within, and wainscot her with praise.