O <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Sure Lord, there is enough in thee to dry <br /> Oceans of Ink ; for, as the Deluge did <br /> Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty : <br />Each Cloud distills thy praise, and doth forbid <br />Poets to turn it to another use. <br /> Roses and Lillies speak thee ; and to make <br /> A pair of Cheeks of them, is thy abuse. <br />Why should I Womens eyes for Chrystal take? <br />Such poor invention burns in their low mind, <br /> Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go <br /> To praise, and on thee Lord, some Ink bestow. <br />Open the bones, and you shall nothing find <br /> In the best face but filth, when Lord, in thee <br /> The beauty lies, in the discovery<br /><br />George Herbert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-ii-2/
