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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117372" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>There is a Garden in Her Face</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117372" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There is a garden in her face<br>Where roses and white lilies grow;<br> A heav'nly paradise is that place<br>Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.<br> There cherries grow which none may buy<br> Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117372" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Those cherries fairly do enclose<br>Of orient pearl a double row,<br> Which when her lovely laughter shows,<br>They look like rose-buds filled with snow;<br> Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,<br> Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117372" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Her eyes like angels watch them still;<br>Her brows like bended bows do stand,<br> Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill<br> All that attempt, with eye or hand<br> Those sacred cherries to come nigh<br> Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Thomas+Champion">Thomas Champion</a></strong></div>

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