TO MY LADYE LOVE.

Downe I sat, I sat downe Where Flora had bestowed her graces. Greene it was, It was greene, Far passing other places; For art and nature did combine With sights to witch the gasers eine. There I sat, I sat there, Viewing of this pride of places. Straight I saw, I saw straight The sweetest faire of all faces: Such a face as did containe, Heaven’s shine in every raine? I did looke, Looke did I, And there I saw Apollo’s wyres: Bright they were, They were bright; With them Aurora’s head he tires; But this I wondered, how that now, That shadowed in Cassander’s bow. Still I gazde, I gazde still, Spying Luna’s milke white glasse: Commixt fine, Fine commixt With the morning’s ruddy blase; This white and red their seating seekes, Upon Cassandraes smiling cheeks. Ronsard.