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TO A GENTLEWOMAN,
OBJECTING TO HIM, HIS GRAY HAIRS.
And when, though long it comes to pass,
Where such a rare carnation grew:
Ah! then, too late (close in your chamber keeping), It will be told,
That you are old,
By those true tears y' are weeping!
A DIALOGUE ON A KISS.
Among thy fancies, tell me this!
I shall resolve you, what it is!
And makes more sweet the Bridal bed.
It is an active flame, that flies
And charms it there, with lullabies.
CHORUS. And stills the Bride too, when she cries.
Then to the Chin, the Cheek, the Ear,
CHORUS. 'Tis here, and there, and everywhere!
Has it a voicing virtue?
How speaks it then?
Yes! Do you but this;
Part your joined lips, then speak the kiss!
CHORUS. And this Love's sweetest language is!
Has it a body?
I! [Aye!], and wings
With thousand various colourings!
'Love honey yields; but never, stings!'
CHORUS. And, as it flies, it sweetly sings, 'Love honey yields; but never, stings!'
TO THE WATER NYMPHS,
DRINKING AT THE FOUNTAIN.
And I, about the cup shall see,
Or else, sweet Nymphs! do you but this!
And I shall see, by that one kiss,
UPON JULIA'S HAIR
Danced by the streams.
ONE asked me, Where the roses grew ?
But forthwith bade my JULIA shew
I COULD but see thee yesterday,
And healed the wound in thee!
A thousand thorns, and briars, and stings,
Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings
As Love shall help me! I admire
If thou, composed of gentle mould,
What dismal stories will be told
A THANKSGIVING TO GOD,
FOR HIS HOUSE.
LORD! Thou hast given me a cell
A little house, whose humble roof
Under the spars of which, I lie
Where Thou, my chamber for to ward,
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Low is my Porch, as is my fate,
And yet the threshold of my door
Who thither come, and freely get
A little Buttery; and therein
A little Bin,
Which keeps my little loaf of bread
Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar
Make me a fire;
Close by whose living coal I sit,
And glow like it