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
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