Number 2

Fair was she, whose nature’s proudest beauty Of irises brown, and hair darkest hue Winter soon wilt, reckless what bare eyes see Dare look at her, with love slowly brewed A need be called forgoes a need too dwells My voice, my visions and my leisure fold Below thy chin, summer’s gentlest did well Breathe me grape wine sweetest of ages gold That fairness fallen dawn casts on her breasts On unmoved ground, o’er aether brightly shines She lies still, while pedals dance on her dress Body autumn entangled in pale vines As if beauty would flee in false manner Then it should be given a fate sweeter