White though ye be, yet, lilies, know,
From the first ye were not so;
But I'll tell ye
What befell ye:
Cupid and his mother lay
In a cloud, while both did play,
He with his pretty finger press'd
The ruby niplet of her breast;
Out of which the cream of light,
Like to a dew,
Fell down on you
And made ye white.
How Lilies Came White
Robert Herrick
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Poem topics: cloud, light, mother, play, finger, cream, pretty, I love you, I miss you, white, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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