Cherry-Ripe

By Thomas Campion

1567?-1619


THERE is a garden in her face
         Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
         Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow:
         There cherries grow which none may buy
         Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose
         Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
         They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
         Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy
         Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still;
         Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
         All that attempt with eye or hand
         Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
         Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

DayPoems Poem No. 169
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/169.html">Cherry-Ripe by Thomas Campion</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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