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'Tis not how witty, nor how free,
Nor yet how beautifull she be,
But how much kinde and true to me.

— Aurelian Townshend

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More quotes by Aurelian Townshend

There is no up-hill in the skyes;
Clouds stay not feathered feete.

The sunn must lend his goulden beames,
Soft windes their breath, green trees their shade,
Sweete fields their flowers, cleare springs their streams,
Ere such another smyle bee made.

All Aurelian Townshend quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Aurelian Townshend (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.