TO A GENTLEWOMAN,

OBJECTING TO HIM, HIS GRAY HAIRS.
Am I despised? because you say,
And I dare swear, That I am gray!
Know, Lady! you have but your day!
And time will come, when you shall wear
Such frost and snow upon your hair!

And when, though long it comes to pass,
You question with your looking-glass,
And in that sincere crystal seek,
But find no rosebud in your cheek;
Nor any bed to give the shew

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!

QUESTION.

A DIALOGUE ON A KISS.

RESOLUTION.

CHORUS.

Among thy fancies, tell me this!
What is the thing we call a Kiss?

I shall resolve you, what it is!
It is a creature born and bred
Betwixt the lips all cherry-red;
By love and warm desires fed.

BOTH TOGETHER.

And makes more sweet the Bridal bed.

It is an active flame, that flies
First to the babies of the Eyes;

And charms it there, with lullabies.

CHORUS. And stills the Bride too, when she cries.

Then to the Chin, the Cheek, the Ear,
It frisks! it flies! now here! now there!
'Tis now far off; and now 'tis near !

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!
And, as it flies, it sweetly sings,

'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.
REACH, with your whiter hands, to me
Some crystal of the spring!

And I, about the cup shall see,
Fresh lilies flourishing!

Or else, sweet Nymphs! do you but this!
To the Glass your lips incline;

And I shall see, by that one kiss,
The water turned to wine!

UPON JULIA'S HAIR
FILLED WITH DEW.
DEW sat on JULIA's hair;
And spangled too,
Like leaves that laden are
With trembling dew:
Or glittered to my sight;
As when the beams
Have their reflected light

Danced by the streams.

THE ROSARY.

ONE asked me, Where the roses grew ?
I bade him, not go seek!

But forthwith bade my JULIA shew
A bud in either cheek!

TO DIANEME.

I COULD but see thee yesterday,
Stung by a fretful bee;
And I the javelin sucked away,

And healed the wound in thee!

A thousand thorns, and briars, and stings,
I have in my poor breast;

Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings
My Passions any rest!

As Love shall help me! I admire
How thou canst sit, and smile,
To see me bleed; and not desire
To stench the blood the while!

If thou, composed of gentle mould,
Art so unkind to me;

What dismal stories will be told
Of those that cruel be!

A THANKSGIVING TO GOD,

FOR HIS HOUSE.

LORD! Thou hast given me a cell
Wherein to dwell;

A little house, whose humble roof
Is weather-proof;

Under the spars of which, I lie
Both soft and dry.

Where Thou, my chamber for to ward,
Hast set a guard

Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I sleep.

Low is my Porch, as is my fate,
Both void of State;

And yet the threshold of my door
Is worn by th' poor;

Who thither come, and freely get
Good words, or meat.
Like as my Parlour, so my Hall,
And Kitchen, 's small!

A little Buttery; and therein

A little Bin,

Which keeps my little loaf of bread
Unchipped, unflead!

Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar

Make me a fire;

Close by whose living coal I sit,

And glow like it