Classic Poem

Forbear! This face, if taken true,
Ruines thine Art: For when men view
So new a model of a Face,
So chaste, so sweet, 'twill quite disgrace
All thy old Rules: but if thy will
Presume to limb new laws for skill,
Upon thy Pallat (fram'd by Art
O'th'splinter of some conquer'd heart)
Temper the Elements, be sure
They be all four most calm and pure:
From these perhaps thou maist descry
Her ev'n complexions harmony.
For either Cheek, when you begin,
Draw me a smiling Cherubin.
For lips thou maist the Gemini track
Of some high Holy-day Zodiack :
For Brow and eyes thou shalt display
The Ev'n and Morn, Creations day:
It must be such a dawn and shade
As that day cast, wherein was made
The Sun, before mans damning Fall
Threw a fogg'd guilt upon this All.
Over this Figure raise me high
Figures for stars i'th' convex'd skye;
But give no colour, they will rise
Bright from her efficacious eyes.
Last, draw thy self and Pencil thrown
Beneath her feet: For'twill be known
She's mistresse of far braver Arts,
Thou Faces tak'st, but she takes Hearts.