When I Behold A Forest Spread With Silken Trees Upon Thy Head; And When I See That Other Dress Of Flowers Set In Comeliness; When I Behold Another Grace In The Ascent Of Curious Lace, Which, Like A Pinnacle, Doth Shew The Top, And The Top-Gallant Too; Then, When I See Thy Tresses Bound Into An Oval, Square, Or Round, And Knit In Knots Far More Than I. Can Tell By Tongue, Or True-Love Tie; Next, When Those Lawny Films I See Play With A Wild Civility; And All Those Airy Silks To Flow, Alluring Me, And Tempting So, I Must Confess, Mine Eye And Heart Dotes Less On Nature Than On Art.