Author Robert Herrick Clear are her eyes, Like purest skies, Discovering from thence A baby there That turns each sphere, Like an Intelligence.A baby, see Note to 38, "To his mistress objecting to him neither toying nor talking". Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments