A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William

One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under,
  Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,
  Which therefore swell'd, and seem'd to part asunder,
  As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss!
  The one look'd pale and for revenge did long,
  While t'other blush'd, 'cause it had done the wrong.

  Out of the bed the other fair hand was
  On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white
  Look'd like a daisy in a field of grass,
  And show'd like unmelt snow unto the sight;
  There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
  The rest o' th' body that lay fast asleep.

  Her eyes (and therefore it was night), close laid
  Strove to imprison beauty till the morn:
  But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,
  That it broke through, and show'd itself in scorn,
  Throwing a kind of light about the place,
  Which turn'd to smiles still, as't came near her face.

  Her beams, which some dull men call'd hair, divided,
  Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport.
  But these, as rude, her breath put by still; some
  Wiselier downwards sought, but falling short,
  Curled back in rings, and seemed to turn again
  To bite the part so unkindly held them in.

Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)


Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • Chinese - Simplified 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • Chinese - Traditional 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Spanish Español (Spanish)
  • Japanese 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Portuguese Português (Portuguese)
  • German Deutsch (German)
  • Arabic العربية (Arabic)
  • French Français (French)
  • Russian Русский (Russian)
  • Kannada ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • Korean 한국어 (Korean)
  • Hebrew עברית (Hebrew)
  • Ukrainian Український (Ukrainian)
  • Urdu اردو (Urdu)
  • Hungarian Magyar (Hungarian)
  • Hindi मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesian Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italian Italiano (Italian)
  • Tamil தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Turkish Türkçe (Turkish)
  • Telugu తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • Thai ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Vietnamese Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Czech Čeština (Czech)
  • Polish Polski (Polish)
  • Indonesian Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Romanian Românește (Romanian)
  • Dutch Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Greek Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latin Latinum (Latin)
  • Swedish Svenska (Swedish)
  • Danish Dansk (Danish)
  • Finnish Suomi (Finnish)
  • Persian فارسی (Persian)
  • Yiddish ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • Armenian հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norwegian Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English English (English)

Discuss this Sir John Suckling poem with the community:


Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:


"A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 16 Jun 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/35218/a-supplement-of-an-imperfect-copy-of-verses-of-mr.-william>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.