« ПретходнаНастави »
Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seen
To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and green,
And sweet as Flora. Take no care
For jewels for your gown, or hair:
Gems in abundance upon you:
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept :
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:
And Titan on the eastern hill
Retires himself, or else stands still
Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying Few beads are best, when once we go a Maying.
Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark
Or branch: Each porch, each door, ere this,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove;
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street,
The proclamation made for May:
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying;
There's not a budding boy, or girl, this day,
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream,
And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
Many a green-gown has been given;
Many a kiss, both odd and even:
Many a glance too has been sent
Many a jest told of the keys betraying
This night, and locks pick'd :-Yet we're not a Maying.
-Come, let us go, while we are in our prime ;
And take the harmless folly of the time!
We shall grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short and our days run
As fast away as does the sun :
And as a vapour, or a drop of rain
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade;
Lies drown'd with us in endless night.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,
WHENAS in silks my Julia goes
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
My Love in her attire doth shew her wit,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings fit,
No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty's self she is
When all her robes are gone.
ON A GIRDLE.
THAT which her slender waist confined
It was my Heaven's extremest sphere,
A narrow compass! and yet there
A MYSTICAL ECSTASY.
E'EN like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, And having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
So I my Best-Belovéd's am: so He is mine.
E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E'en so we join'd; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit,
For I was flax and he was flames of fire: Our firm-united souls did more than twine; So I my Best-Belovéd's am; so he is mine.
If all those glittering Monarchs that command
I would not change my fortunes for them all :
As in the whole world thou canst find,