The Cherry
Richard Allison
c.1570 to c.1615
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There is a garden in her face,
Where roses white lilies grow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
all pleasant fruits do grow;
There cherries grow that may buy
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.
Those fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which, when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rosebuds fill'd with snow;
Yet them no peer nor prince may
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.
Her eyes like watch them still,
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threatening with piercing frowns to kill
All that approach eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
cherry ripe themselves do cry.