Classic Poem

If thou wouldst see threedes purer than the gold,
Where loue his wealth doth show,
But take this glasse, and thy faire haire behold:
If whitenesse thou wouldst see more white than snow,
And reade on wonder's booke,
Take but this glasse, and on thy forehead looke.
Wouldst thou in winter see a crimsin rose,
Whose thornes doe hurt each heart,
Looke but in glasse how thy sweet lips doe close:
Wouldst thou see planets which all good impart,
Or meteores diuine,
But take this glasse, and gaze vpon thine eine:
No, planets, rose, snow, gold, cannot compare
With you, deare eyes, lips, browes, and amber haire.