Canzon 17. How shall I deck my Love in love’s habiliment

Anonymous

HOW shall I deck my Love in love’s habiliment,

And her embellish in a right depaint?

Sith now is left, nor rose, nor hyacinth,

Each one their beauties with their hue acquaint.

The gold ceiling of thy brow’s rich frame

Designs the proud pomp of thy face’s architure.

Crystal transparent casements to the same,

Are thine eyes’ sun, which do the world depure;

Whose silvery canopy, gold-wire fringes.

Thy brow, the bowling place for CUPID’s eye.

Love’s true-love knots, and lily-lozenges,

Thy cheeks, depainten in an immortal dye.

If well, thou limned art, now, by face imagery;

Judge, how, by life, I then should pencil thee!