Poem by Robert Herrick

What Kind of Mistress He Would Have

Be the mistress of my choice,
Clean in manners, clear in voice;
Be she witty, more than wise,
Pure enough, though not precise;
Be she showing in her dress,
Like a civil wilderness,
That the curious may detect
Order in a sweet neglect;
Be she rolling in her eye,
Tempting all the passers by;
And each ringlet of her hair,
An enchantment, or a snare,
For to catch the lookers on;
But herself held fast by none.
Let her Lucrece all day be,
Thais in the night, to me.
Be she such, as neither will
Famish me, nor overfill. 

1. His Last Request to Julia
2. Things Mortal Still Mutable (Epigram)
3. The Rock of Rubies, and the Quarry of Pearls
4. To Sapho
5. To Anthea (Anthea, I am going hence)

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