There is a garden in her face, where roses and white lilies grow; A heavenly paradise in that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow. There cherries grow which none may buy, 'till 'cherry-ripe' themselves do cry. Those cherries fairly do enclose of Orient pearl ~ a double row; Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rosebuds filled with snow. Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy, 'Till 'cherry-ripe' themselves do cry. Her eyes like angels watch them still; Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threatening with piercing frowns to kill all that attempt with eye or hand; Those sacred cheries to come nigh, 'Till 'cherry-ripe' themselves do cry. ~Thomas Campion
Hi all. I'm a full time professional finishing up a Juris Doctorate. Just two more classes to go! I'm direct, honest, and hard-working. I spend my free time writing professionally for an online company. I enjoy helping people when I can.