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Cherry-Ripe

Thomas Campion 1567 – 1620

THERE is a garden in her face
  Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
  Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow:
  There cherries grow which none may buy
  Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose
  Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
  They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
  Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy
  Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still;
  Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
  All that attempt with eye or hand
  Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
  Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Thomas Campion

Thomas Campion sometimes Campian was an English composer poet and physician Campion was first published as a poet in 1591 with five of his works appearing in an edition of Sir Philip Sidneys Astrophel and Stella more…

All Thomas Campion poems | Thomas Campion Books

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