Classic Poem

My Ladies haire is threeds of beaten gold,
Her front the purest Christall eye hath seene:
Her eyes the brightest starres the heavens hold.
Her cheekes red Roses, such as seld have been:
Her pretie lips of red vermilion dye,
Her hand of yvorie the purest white:
Her blush Aurora, or the morning skye,
Her breast displaies two silver fountaines bright,
The Spheares her voyce, her grace the Graces three,
Her bodie is the Saint that I adore,
Her smiles and favours sweet as honey bee,
Her feete faire Thetis praiseth evermore.
But ah the worst and last is yet behind,
For of a Gryphon she doth beare the mind.