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There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is read more
There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow.
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.
In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.
In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this
particular! Some of them speak read more
A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this
particular! Some of them speak not. They are books in which not
a line is written, save perhaps a date.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
As clear and as manifest as the nose in a man's face.
As clear and as manifest as the nose in a man's face.
These faces in the mirrors
Are but the shadows and phantoms of myself.
These faces in the mirrors
Are but the shadows and phantoms of myself.
