|
|
|
|
When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes, In colour black why wrapped she beams so bright? Would she in beamy black, like painter wise, Frame daintiest lustre, mixed of shades and light? Or did she else that sober hue devise In object best to knit and strength our sight, Lest, if no veil these brave gleams did disguise, They, sun-like, should more dazzle than delight? Or would she her miraculous power show, That whereas black seems Beauty's contrary, She even in black doth make all beauties flow? Both so and thus: she, minding Love should be Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed To honour all their deaths who for her bleed.
|