paintbrush style,detalised,woman portrait,
(Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my loveâs breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my loveâs veins thou hast too grossly dyed.â
The lily I condemnÃ¨d for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stolân thy hair;
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stolân of both,
And to his robbâry had annexed thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker ate him up to death.
 More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
 But sweet or color it had stolân from thee)