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   English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics.  1909–14.
 
140. Cherry-ripe
 
Thomas Campion (1567(?)–1620)
 
 
THERE is a garden in her face
  Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
  Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow:
    There cherries grow which none may buy        5
    Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.
 
Those cherries fairly do enclose
  Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
  They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow;        10
    Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy
    Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.
 
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
  Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill        15
  All that attempt with eye or hand
    Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
    Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.
 

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