OF A LADY WHO, TAKING OFF A RING, PRICKED HERSELF WITH A PIN

A prison for jointed mother-of-pearl
(of my own constancy a rival bright)
a diamond was, which quite ingeniously
itself in gold was caught in prison tight.

Chloris, who that her finger be oppressed
by metal, even precious, won't allow,
one day with grace, and quite impatiently,
redeemed it from its golden bond somehow.

But, oh, a sliver of deceptive brass
upon the crystals of her lovely hand
sacrilegiously divine blood drained:

crimson dye less brightly shone on Indian
ivory; enviously, upon the snow
the Dawn carnations' petals stripped in vain.