Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, <br />And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? <br />Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. <br />Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies! <br />Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. <br />Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, <br />And all is dross that is not Helena. <br />I will be Paris, and for love of thee, <br />Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sack'd; <br />And I will combat with weak Menelaus, <br />And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; <br />Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, <br />And then return to Helen for a kiss. <br />O, thou art fairer than the evening air <br />Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; <br />Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter <br />When he appear'd to hapless Semele; <br />More lovely than the monarch of the sky <br />In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms; <br />And none but thou shalt be my paramour!<br /><br />Christopher Marlowe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-face-that-launch-d-a-thousand-ships/
