Still to be neat, still to be dressed
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed--
Lady, it is to be presumed
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art;
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
--Ben Jonson

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast my eye and see
That brave vibration each way free,
O how that glittering taketh me!
--Robert Herrick