To His Fairest Valentine Mrs. A. L.

Richard Lovelace

    "Come, pretty birds, present your lays,
     And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
     Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
     Employ'd to serve her deity:
     And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
     Some music to my Valentine.

    "Her bosom is love's paradise,
     There is no heav'n but in her eyes;
     She's chaster than the turtle-dove,
     And fairer than the queen of love:
     Yet all perfections do combine
     To beautifie my Valentine.

    "She's Nature's choicest cabinet,
     Where honour, beauty, worth and wit
     Are all united in her breast.
     The graces claim an interest:
     All virtues that are most divine
     Shine clearest in my Valentine."
     And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
     Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
     Employ'd to serve her deity:
     And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
     Some music to my Valentine.

    "Her bosom is love's paradise,
     There is no heav'n but in her eyes;
     She's chaster than the turtle-dove,
     And fairer than the queen of love:
     Yet all perfections do combine
     To beautifie my Valentine.

    "She's Nature's choicest cabinet,
     Where honour, beauty, worth and wit
     Are all united in her breast.
     The graces claim an interest:
     All virtues that are most divine
     Shine clearest in my Valentine."

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