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Short poem

Thomas Campion (1567-1620)

There Is A Garden In Her Face

              1There is a garden in her face
              2Where roses and white lilies grow;
              3A heav'nly paradise is that place
              4Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
              5    There cherries grow which none may buy,
              6    Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry.

              7Those cherries fairly do enclose
              8Of orient pearl a double row,
              9Which when her lovely laughter shows,
            10They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
            11    Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
            12    Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry.

            13Her eyes like angels watch them still,
            14Her brows like bended bows do stand,
            15Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
            16All that attempt with eye or hand
            17    Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
            18    Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry.

Online text copyright © 2003, Ian Lancashire for the Department of English, University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: Thomas Campion, The third and fovrth booke of ayres (London: Thomas Snodham, 1617). M C346 MUSI mfm. Facs. edn. Menston: Scolar, 1973. M 2 C14A5 Robarts Library
First publication date: 1617
RPO poem editor: N. J. Endicott
RP edition: 2RP.1.250; RPO 1996-2000.
Recent editing: 2:2001/12/6

Rhyme: ababcc

Other poems by Thomas Campion