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Still to be Neat
by Ben  Jonson

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.
        
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Poem ID: 362   Poem Posted: 11/21/1997
Viewed: 198581  Voted On: 1217  E-mailed: 213  Commented On: 9
 
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