My Loue in her Attyre doth shew her witt, <br /> It doth so well become her: <br /> For eu'ry season she hath dressings fitt, <br /> For Winter, Spring, and Summer. <br /> No Beautie shee doth misse, <br /> When all her Robes are on: <br /> But Beauties selfe shee is, <br /> When all her Robes are gone.<br /><br />Anonymous Americas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-love-in-her-attire/
