Sonnet IX

But how could her marble skin be so soft?
From gentle rock she was chipped, a model
Imitating Aphrodite aloft.
She was wrapped in stubborn cotton swaddle
That clothed her perfect form from prying eyes
That ogle, round and sweet, her perfect lie.
She's carved by iron tools to fantasise
Her wild dimensions made to satisfy. 
This model woman, ideal and flawless,
Imagined in resolute high command
From counterpoint across her unreal solace
Infinite, sublime as her subtle hand.
This noble dame resists the vexing past
In solid scorn, remaining to the last.

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Rene Descartes, French philosopher, mathematician and scientist, was born today in 1596.

Andrew Marvell, English metaphysical poet, was born today in 1621.

Johann Sebastian Bach, German composed, was born today 1685.