Queen Virtue's court, which some call Stella's face, <br />Prepar'd by Nature's choicest furniture, <br />Hath his front built of alabaster pure; <br />Gold in the covering of that stately place. <br /> <br />The door by which sometimes comes forth her Grace <br />Red porphir is, which lock of pearl makes sure, <br />Whose porches rich (which name of cheeks endure) <br />Marble mix'd red and white do interlace. <br /> <br />The windows now through which this heav'nly guest <br />Looks o'er the world, and can find nothing such, <br />Which dare claim from those lights the name of best, <br /> <br />Of touch they are that without touch doth touch, <br />Which Cupid's self from Beauty's mine did draw: <br />Of touch they are, and poor I am their straw.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-9-queen-virtue-s-court/
