LIKE the Idalian queen, <br /> Her hair about her eyne, <br />With neck and breast's ripe apples to be seen, <br /> At first glance of the morn <br />In Cyprus' gardens gathering those fair flow'rs <br /> Which of her blood were born, <br />I saw, but fainting saw, my paramours. <br />The Graces naked danced about the place, <br /> The winds and trees amazed <br /> With silence on her gazed, <br />The flowers did smile, like those upon her face; <br />And as their aspen stalks those fingers band, <br /> That she might read my case, <br />A hyacinth I wish'd me in her hand.<br /><br />William Henry Drummond<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/madrigal-2/
