Classic Poem

As burnisht gold, such are my Sovereignes heares;
A brace of starres devine, her blackish eyes,
Like to the fairest blacke the Raven beares,
Or fairer, if you fairer can devise:
So likewise faire's the beautie of her brests,
Where pleasure lurkes, where joy still dallying rests.
This Venus bower, you rightly may compare
To whitest snow that ere from heaven fell,
Or to the mynes of alabaster faire:
(Woe's mee) tis sweete to sleepe in Cupids cell,
Whilst he the hart makes surfet with delight
Through golden haire, black eyes, and brest most white.