THE APRON OF FLOWERS.
by Robert Herrick


TO gather flowers Sappha went,
    And homeward she did bring
Within her lawny continent
    The treasure of the spring.

She smiling blush'd, and blushing smil'd,
    And sweetly blushing thus,
She look'd as she'd been got with child
    By young Favonious.

Her apron gave, as she did pass,
    An odour more divine,
More pleasing, too, than ever was
    The lap of Proserpine.



Continent, anything that holds, here the bosom of her dress.

Source:
Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol II.
Alfred Pollard, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 62.


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