My Love In Her Attire
by Anonymous

My love in her attire doth show her wit,
 It doth so well become her:
 For every season she hath dressings, fit,
 For winter, spring, and summer.
 No beauty she doth miss,
 When all her robes are on:
 But Beauty's self she is,
 When all her robes are gone

written by: Anonymous
copyright ©2008