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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Elizabethan Verse. 1907.

Chloris in the Snow


I SAW fair Chloris walk alone,

When feather’d rain came softly down,

As Jove descending from his Tower

To court her in a silver shower:

The wanton snow flew to her breast,

Like pretty birds into their nest,

But, overcome with whiteness there,

For grief it thaw’d into a tear:

Thence falling on her garment’s hem,

To deck her, froze into a gem.