To Cynthia On Concealement Of Her Beauty Poem by Francis Kynaston

Do not conceale thy radiant eyes,
The starre-light of serenest skies,
Least wanting of their heavenly light,
They turne to Chaos endlesse night.
Do not conceale those tresses faire,
The silken snares of thy curl'd haire,
Least finding neither gold, nor Ore,
The curious Silke-worme worke no more.
Do not conceale those brests of thine,
More snowe white, then the Apenine,
Least if there be like cold or frost,
The Lilly be for ever lost.
Do not conceale that fragrant scent,
Thy breath, which to all flowers hath lent
Perfumes, least it being supprest,
No spices growe in all the East.
Do not conceale thy heavenly voice,
Which makes the hearts of gods rejoyce,
Least Musicke hearing no such thing,
The Nightingale forget to sing.
Do not conceale, nor yet eclipse
Thy pearly teeth with Corrall lips,
Least that the Seas cease to bring forth
Gems, which from thee have all their worth.
Do not conceale no beauty grace,
That's either in thy minde or face,
Least vertue overcome by vice,
Make men beleeve no Paradice.