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Still to be Neat
Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powder'd, still perfum'd: Lady, it is to be presum'd, 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 make 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. Benjamin Jonson Related Articles: Sweet Disorder Tell Me Not, Sweet The Clod and the Pebble The Flea The Indian Serenade The Lost Thrill The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd The Passionate Shepherd to His Love  To our knowledge this poem is in the public domain. If you believe we have infringed any copyright laws please contact us and the offending material will be removed immediately.  The poetry on this site is for entertainment purposes only. See Full Disclaimer for more information. |
