Sonnet 17
Richard Barnefield
1574 to 1627
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Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape,
Might not with his pure ivorie white,
On whose faire a poet’s pen may write,
Whose roseate red excels crimson grape,
His love-enticing delicate soft limbs,
Are fram’d t’intrap poore gazine eies:
His cheeks, the and carnation dies,
With lovely tincture which Apollo’s dims.
lips ripe strawberries in nectar wet,
His mouth Hive, his tongue a hony-combe,
Where Muses (like bees) make their mansion.
His teeth pure pearle in blushing set.
Oh how can such a body sinne-procuring,
Be slow to love, and quicke to hate, enduring?