Sonnet LXXXIX Poem by Barnabe Barnes

What be those hairs dyed like the marigold ?
ECHO, Gold !
What is that brow, whose frown make any moan
ECHO, Anemone !
What were her eyes, when the great lords controlled ?
ECHO, Rolled !
What be they, when from them be loves thrown ?
ECHO, LOVE's throne !
What were her cheeks (when blushes rose) like
ECHO, Rose-like !
What are those lips, which 'bove pearls rew be ?
ECHO, Ruby !
Her ivory shoulders, what be those like ?
ECHO, Those like !
What saints are like her ? speak, if you be !
ECHO, Few be !
Thou dwell'st in rocks, hart-like ! somewhat then ?
ECHO, What then ?
And rocks dwell in her heart ! is 'tis true ?
ECHO, Tis true !
Whom she loves best ? know this, cannot men !
ECHO, Not men !
Pass him, she loathes ! then I dismiss you !
ECHO, Miss you !
What sex, to whom men sue, so vain much ?
ECHO, Vain much !
Furies there fires, and I complain such ?
ECHO, Plain such !