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Thomas Campion (Томас Кэмпион)


Cherry-Ripe


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 filled with snow;
Yet them no 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.



Thomas Campion's other poems:
  1. Follow Your Saint
  2. Amaryllis
  3. View Me, Lord, a Work of Thine
  4. O Come Quickly!
  5. Integer Vitae


Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Robert Herrick (Роберт Геррик (Херрик)) Cherry-Ripe ("CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry")

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