Still to be Neat

Ben Jonson's wry poem about true beauty.  Robert Herrick's is 'famouser'; you can read his poem about this here, where I talk about six-packs, the tummy not the beer kind.

Still to Be Neat
- Ben Jonson (1572 - 1637)

 

         Still to be neat, still to be dressed,
    As you were going to a feast;
    Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
    Lady, it is to be presumed,
    Though art's hid causes are not found,
    All is not sweet, all is not sound.

    Give me a look, give me a face
    That makes simplicity a grace;
    Robes losely flowing, hair as free:
    Such sweet neglect more taketh me
    Than all the adulteries of art;
    They strike mine eyes but not my heart.

" ... all the adulteries of art; They strike mine eyes but not my heart."

Quite. As true about men as women. 

Poem from Poem of the Week.


Oh, and perhaps when Ben Jonson wrote this, 'feast' was in fact pronounced 'fest'.  Which would make the pronunciation 'feest' a 'spelling pronunciation'.

Pedantry R us.