Whenas in perfume Julia went,Then, then, how sweet was the intentOf that inexorable scent.
Her very shadow walked in myrrhAnd smelled (itself) of pomanderAnd Herrick could but covet her.
The sight of Julia's dainty limbRecalled a smooth white egg to him.And when he saw a smooth white egg,I guess he thought of Julia's leg.
All that was fair, all that was neatDid Herrick love: her silvery feet,Her golden head, her double chin.(Conceive the dither he was in.)
There were the riband on her throat,Her silken air, her petticoat,The soft pretension of her dressTo kindle in him lovingness.
They took his homage and his heart.So, too, did every other part:Her breasts, her eager lips, her hair.I think she pleased him everywhere.
Then for his subjugation, ah,There was the total Julia.
