Anonymous

IN this marble buried lies

Beauty may enrich the skies,

And add light to Phœbus’ eyes;

Sweeter than Aurora’s air,

When she paints the lilies fair,

And gilds cowslips with her hair.

Chaster than the virgin spring,

Ere her blossoms she doth bring,

Or cause Philomel to sing.

If such goodness live ’mongst men,

Tell me it: I shall know then

She is come from Heaven again.