Classic Poem

Bring me a posie of the choicest flowers,
And as my true love now is dead to me,
Straight I of them will make a Deity,
And worship it at consecrated hours.
Let there be roses, emblems of her lips,
And lilies fair to represent her cheeks,
Woodbine her hair; in vain my fancy seeks
For emblems of her eyes! stars that eclipse
All others, and comparison outshine;
But for these bring the darkest violet.
Her voice, her forehead, and her white teeth, set
Like pearls around a crown; those to define
Were far too great a task for my poor wit,
And all exceed which dreaming Bards have writ.