Clad all in White▪
1.
FAirest thing that shines below,
Why in this robe dost thou appear?
Wouldst thou a white most perfect show,
Thou must at all no garment wear:
Thou wilt seem much whiter so,
Then Winter when 'tis clad with snow.
Poems written by A. Cowley.
About this Item
- Title
- Poems written by A. Cowley.
- Author
- Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.
- Publication
- London :: Printed for Humphrey Moseley,
- 1656.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34829.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"Poems written by A. Cowley." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34829.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 18, 2024.
Pages
Page 14
2.
'Tis not the Linnen shews so fair:
Her skin shines through, and makes it bright;
So clouds themselves like Suns appear,
When the Sun pierces them with Light:
So Lillies in a glass enclose,
The Glass will seem as white as those.
3.
Thou now one heap of beauty art;
Nought outwards, or within is foul:
Condensed beams make every part;
Thy Body's Cloathed like thy Soul.
Thy soul, which does it self display,
Like a star plac'd i'th Milky way.
4.
Such robes the Saints departed weare,
Wooven all with Light divine;
Such their exalted Bodies are,
And with such full glory shine.
But they regard not mortals pain;
Men pray, I fear, to both in vain.
5.
Yet seeing thee so gently pure,
My hopes will needs continue still;
Thou wouldst not take this garment sure,
When thou hadst and intent to kill.
Of Peace and yielding who would doubt,
When the white Flag he sees hung out?