The Lily In a Crystal

You have beheld a smiling rose
  When virgins’ hands have drawn
  O’er it a cobweb-lawn;
And here you see this lily shows,
  Tomb’d in a crystal stone,
More fair in this transparent case
  Than when it grew alone
  And had but single grace.

You see how cream but naked is
  Nor dances in the eye
  Without a strawberry,
Or some fine tincture like to this,
  Which draws the sight thereto
More by that wantoning with it
  Than when the paler hue
  No mixture did admit.

You see how amber through the streams
  More gently strokes the sight
  With some conceal’d delight
Than when he darts his radiant beams
  Into the boundless air;
Where either too much light his worth
  Doth all at once impair,
  Or set it little forth.

Put purple grapes or cherries inTo glass, and they will send
  More beauty to commend
Them from that clean and subtle skin
  Than if they naked stood,
And had no other pride at all
  But their own flesh and blood
  And tinctures natural.

Thus lily, rose, grape, cherry, cream,
  And strawberry do stir
  More love when they transfer
A weak, a soft, a broken beam,
  Than if they should discover
At full their proper excellence;
  Without some scene cast over
  To juggle with the sense.

Thus let this crystal’d lily be
  A rule how far to teach
  Your nakedness must reach;
And that no further than we see
  Those glaring colours laid
By art’s wise hand, but to this end
  They should obey a shade,
  Lest they too far extend.

So though you’re white as swan or snow,
  And have the power to move
  A world of men to love,
Yet when your lawns and silks shall flow,
  And that white cloud divide
Into a doubtful twilight, then,
  Then will your hidden pride
  Raise greater fires in men.
The Lily In a Crystal

by Robert Herrick, 1648
