Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/398

 RICHARD CRASHAW

��Wishes to His Supposed Mistress

r HOE'ER she be- That not impossible She That shall command my heart and me:

Where'er she lie,

Lock'd up from mortal eye

In shady leaves of destiny:

Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth,

And teach her fair steps to our earth:

Till that divine

Idea take a shrine

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:

Meet you her, my Wishes,

Bespeak her to my blisses,

And be ye calPd my absent kisses.

I wish her Beauty,

That owes not all its duty

To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie:

Something more than Taffata or tissue can, Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

A Face, that 's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone commend the rest.

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