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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529843" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Like to the Clear in Highest Sphere</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529843" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Like to the clear in highest sphere<br>Where all imperial glory shines,<br>Of selfsame colour is her hair,<br>Whether unfolded or in twines:<br>Heigh ho, fair Rosalind.<br>Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,<br>Refining heaven by every wink;<br>The gods do fear whenas they glow,<br>And I do tremble when I think:<br>Heigh ho, would she were mine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529843" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud<br>That beautifies Aurora's face,<br>Or like the silver crimson shroud<br>That Ph{oe}bus' smiling looks doth grace:<br>Heigh ho, fair Rosalind.<br>Her lips are like two budded roses,<br>Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,<br>Within which bounds she balm encloses,<br>Apt to entice a deity:<br>Heigh ho, would she were mine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529843" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Her neck, like to a stately tower<br>Where Love himself imprison'd lies,<br>To watch for glances every hour<br>From her divine and sacred eyes:<br>Heigh ho, fair Rosalind.<br>Her paps are centres of delight,<br>Her paps are orbs of heavenly frame,<br>Where Nature moulds the dew of light,<br>To feed perfection with the same:<br>Heigh ho, would she were mine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529843" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">With orient pearl, with ruby red,<br>With marble white, with sapphire blue,<br>Her body every way is fed,<br>Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view:<br>Heigh ho, fair Rosalind.<br>Nature herself her shape admires,<br>The gods are wounded in her sight,<br>And Love forsakes his heavenly fires<br>And at her eyes his brand doth light:<br>Heigh ho, would she were mine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529843" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan<br>The absence of fair Rosalind,<br>Since for her fair there is fairer none,<br>Nor for her virtues so divine:<br>Heigh ho, fair Rosalind.<br>Heigh ho, my heart, would God that she were mine!</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+Lodge">Thomas Lodge</a></strong></div>

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