(no subject)
O, how much sweeter doth beauteous seem
By the sweet ornament which in roses live,
That doth perfume gardens of nature's theme
With that sweet odor which roses doth give.
The rose bloomed, its canker as deep a dye
As spring's honey breath season bring in moot,
Hang on such thorns roses did sweetly lie
And bloomed deeper as rain shower their roots.
But, for their virtue, should by time decrease,
And at a frown they and their glories fade,
Die to themselves as their pride lie decease,
Their sweet odors no longer sweeter made.
For this I have witnessed and perjured I,
That beauty such as this hath lived and died.
By the sweet ornament which in roses live,
That doth perfume gardens of nature's theme
With that sweet odor which roses doth give.
The rose bloomed, its canker as deep a dye
As spring's honey breath season bring in moot,
Hang on such thorns roses did sweetly lie
And bloomed deeper as rain shower their roots.
But, for their virtue, should by time decrease,
And at a frown they and their glories fade,
Die to themselves as their pride lie decease,
Their sweet odors no longer sweeter made.
For this I have witnessed and perjured I,
That beauty such as this hath lived and died.