[My lady's presence makes the
by Henry Constable
My lady's presence makes the roses
Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
The lily's leaves, for
envy, pale became,
And her white hands in them this envy bred.
marigold the leaves abroad doth spread,
Because the sun's and her power is
The violet of purple colour came.
Dyed in the blood she made my
heart to shed.
In brief: all flowers from her their virtue take;
sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed;
The living heat which her
eyebeams doth make
Warmeth the ground and quickeneth the seed.
wherewith she watereth the flowers,
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves
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