Lyric Poem · Love
Song from The Silent Woman
by Ben Jonson
Still to be neat, still to be dressed,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free;
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all th' adulteries of art:
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
This poem is in the public domain.
“Song from The Silent Woman” by Ben Jonson — quilloak.com/poems/song-from-the-silent-woman
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