The Lily in a Crystal

You have beheld a smiling roseWhen virgins' hands have drawnO'er it a cobweb-lawn;And here you see this lily shows,Tomb'd in a crystal stone,More fair in this transparent caseThan when it grew aloneAnd had but single grace.

You see how cream but naked isNor dances in the eyeWithout a strawberry,Or some fine tincture like to this,Which draws the sight theretoMore by that wantoning with itThan when the paler hueNo mixture did admit.

You see how amber through the streamsMore gently strokes the sightWith some conceal'd delightThan when he darts his radiant beamsInto the boundless air;Where either too much light his worthDoth all at once impair,Or set it little forth.

Put purple grapes or cherries in-To glass, and they will sendMore beauty to commendThem from that clean and subtle skinThan if they naked stood,And had no other pride at allBut their own flesh and bloodAnd tinctures natural.

Thus lily, rose, grape, cherry, cream,And strawberry do stirMore love when they transferA weak, a soft, a broken beam,

Than if they should discoverAt full their proper excellence;Without some scene cast overTo juggle with the sense.

Thus let this crystal'd lily beA rule how far to teachYour nakedness must reach;And that no further than we seeThose glaring colours laidBy art's wise hand, but to this endThey should obey a shade,Lest they too far extend.

So though you're white as swan or snow,And have the power to moveA world of men to love,Yet when your lawns and silks shall flow,And that white cloud divideInto a doubtful twilight, then,Then will your hidden prideRaise greater fires in men.