Classic Poem

Who would perfection's faire idea see,
Let him come looke on Chloris sweet with mee:
White is her haire, her teeth white, white her skinne,
Blacke bee her eyes, her eye-browes Cupid's inne;
Her lockes, her body, hands doe long appeare,
But teeth short, bellie short, short either eare;
The space twixt shoulders, eyes, is wide, browes wide,
Straite waste, the mouth straite, and her virgine pride;
Thicke are her lips, thighs, with banckes swelling there,
Her nose is small, small fingers; and her haire,
Her sugred mouth, her cheekes, her nailes bee red;
Litle her foot, pap litle, and her hed.
Such Venus was, such was the flame of Troy,
Such Chloris is, my hope, and only ioy.