There is a Garden in her Face - by Richard Allison, from An Hour's Recreation in musicke, apt for instruments and voyces (1606)

Flora, by Evelyn de Morgan, (1855-1919)

There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies grow ;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ;
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do inclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds filled with snow
Yet them no peer nor prince may buy,
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still,
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threatening with piercing frowns to kill
All that approach with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh.
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.