By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed ;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; 10
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest ;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
W. Shakespeare.
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26 SHAKESPEARE
WHO WILL BELIEVE MY VERSE
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were filled with your most high deserts ?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes 5
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say, * This poet lies ;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces/
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage n
And stretched metre of an antique song :
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice — in it and in my rhyme,
W. Shakespeare.
THERE IS A GARDEN
There is a gatden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies grow ;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow, which none may buy
Till Cherry-ripe themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row ;
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CAMPION 27
Which, when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rosebuds filled with snow. 10
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till Cherry-ripe themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still ;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill 15
All that attempt with eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till Cherry-ripe themselves do cry.
T. Campion.
ROSE-CHEEKED LAURA
Rose-cheeked Laura, come ;
Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty's
Silent music, either other
Sweetly gracing.
Lovely forms do flow
From consent divinely framed ;
Heaven is music, and thy beauty's
Birth is heavenly.
These dull notes we sing
Discords need for helps to grace them ;
Only beauty purely loving
Knows no discord,
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28 JONSON
But still moves delight.
Like clear springs renewed by flowing,
Ever perfect, ever in them- 15
selves eternal.
T. Campion,
A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS
See the chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my lady rideth !
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
As she goes, all hearts do duty 5
Unto her beauty ;
And enamoured, do wish, so they might
But enjoy such a sight,
That they still were to run by her side,
Through swords, through seas, whither she would
ride, 10
Do but look on her eyes, they do light
All that love's world compriseth !
Do but look on her hair, it is bright
As love's star when it riseth 1
Do but mark, her forehead's smoother 15
Than words that soothe her;
And from her arched brows such a grace
Sheds itself through the face,
As alone there triumphs to the life
All the gain, all the good of the elements' strife. 20
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JONSON 29
Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touched it ?
Have you marked but the fall o' the snow
Before the soil hath smutched it ?
Have you felt the wool of the beaver ? 25
Or swan's down ever ?
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier ?
Or the nard in the fire ?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee ?
O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! 30
B. Jonson.
TO CELIA
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine ;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise, 5
Doth ask a drink divine :
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee, 10
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent'st it back to me :
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, 15
Not of itself, but thee.
B. Jonson.
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H^RRICK
TO ANTHEA, WHO MAY COMMAND HIM
ANYTHING
Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be ;
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.
A heart as soft, a heart as kind, 5
A heart as sound and free,
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.
Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
To honour thy decree ; 10
Or bid it languish quite away,
And 't shall do so for thee.
Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see ;
And, having none, yet I will keep 15
A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree ;
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en Death, to die for thee. 20
r Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
1 The very eyes of me ;
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.
R. Herrick.
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CAREW 31
ASK ME NO MORE WHERE JOVE BESTOWS
Ask me no more where Jove bestows, '
When June is past, the fading rose ;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
Ask me no more whither do stray 5
The golden atoms of the day ;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past ; 10
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note*
Ask me no more where those stars 'light
That downwards fall in dead of night ;
For in your eyes they sit, and there 15
Fixed become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if east or west
The Phoenix builds her spicy nest ;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies. 20
T. Carew.
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WALLER
TO AMARANTHA
That she would dishevel her hair.
Amarantha, sweet and fair,
Ah, braid no more that shining hair!
As my curious hand or eye
Hovering round thee, let it fly.
Let it fly as unconfined 5
As its calm ravisher the wind,
Who hath left his darling, the east,
To wanton o'er that spicy nest.
Every tress must be confessed;
But neatly tangled at the best; 10
like a clue of golden thread
Most excellently ravelled.
Do not, then, wind up that light
In ribbons, and o'ercloud in night,
Like the sun in *s early ray ; 15
But shake your head and scatter day.
R. Lovelace.
ON A GIRDLE
That which her slender waist confined
Shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do what this has done.
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TENNYSON 38
It was my heaven's extremest sphere, 5
The pale which held that lovely dear :
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love
Did all within this circle move.
A narrow compass 1 and yet there
Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair :
Give me but what this ribbon bound,
Take all the rest the sun goes round.
E. Waller.
THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER
It is the miller's daughter,
And she is grown so dear, so dear,
That I would be the jewel
That trembles at her ear ;
For hid in ringlets day and night,
I'd touch her neck so warm and white.
And I would be the girdle
About her dainty, dainty waist,
And her heart would beat against me,
In sorrow and in rest :
And I should know if it beat right,
I'd clasp it round so close and tight.
O.G. — LOYH C
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84 BURNS
And I would be the necklace,
And all day long to fall and rise
Upon her balmy bosom, 15
With her laughter or her sighs,
And I would lie so light, so light,
I scarce should be unclasped at night.
Lord Tennyson.
MY LOVE IS LIKE A RED RED ROSE
My love is like a red red rose
That 's newly sprung in June ;
My love is like the melodie
That 's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 5
So deep in love am I :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun : 10
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel awhile !
And I will come again, my love, 15
Tho* it were ten thousand mile.
R. Burns.
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BURNS 35
OF A' THE AIRTS THE WIND CAN BLAW
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
I dearly like the West,
For there the bonnie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo'e best :
There wild woods grow, and rivers row, 5
And mony a hill between ;
But day and night my fancy's flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.
i see her in the dewy flowers,
I see her sweet and fair : 10
I hear her in the tunefu' birds,
I hear her charm the air :
There 's not a bonnie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green ;
There 's not a bonnie bird that sings, 15
But minds me o' my Jean.
R. Burns.
BONNIE LESLEY
O, saw ye bonnie Lesley
As she gaed o'er the Border ?
She 's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
To see her is to love, her, 5
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither !
C2
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86 HOOD
Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee : io
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,
The hearts o' men adore thee.
The Deil he couldna skaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee ;
He'd look into thy bonnie face, 15
And say : — ' I canna wrang thee.'
The Powers aboon will tent thee,
Misfortune sha'na steer thee ;
Thou'rt like themselves, sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. 20
Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie 1
That we may brag we hae a lass
There 's nane again sae bonnie.
R. Burns,
FAIR INES
Oh, saw ye not fair Ines ?
She 's gone into the West,
To dazzle when the sun is down,
And rob the world of rest :
She took our daylight with her, 5
The smiles that we love best,
With morning blushes on her cheek,
And pearls upon her breast.
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HOOD 87
Oh, turn again, fair Ines,
Before the fall of night, 10
For fear the Moon should shine alone,
And stars unrivalled bright ;
And blessed will the lover be
That walks beneath their light,
And breathes the love against thy cheek 15
I dare not even write !
Would I had been, fair Ines,
That gallant cavalier,
Who rode so gaily by thy side,
And whispered thee so near ! — 20
Were there no bonny dames at home
Or no true lovers here,
That he should cross the seas to win
The dearest of the dear ?
I saw thee, lovely Ines, 25
Descend along the shore,
With bands of noble gentlemen,
And banners waved before ;
And gentle youth and maidens gay,
And snowy plumes they wore ; — 30
It would have been a beauteous dream,
— If it had been no more.
Alas, alas, fair Ines,
She went away with song,
With Music waiting on her steps, 35
And shoutings of the throng ;
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88 HOOD
But some were sad, and felt no mirth,
But only Music's wrong,
In sounds that sang Farewell, farewell,
To her you've loved so long. 40
Farewell, farewell, fair Ines,
That vessel never bore
So fair a lady on its deck,
Nor danced so light before, —
Alas for pleasure on the sea, 45
And sorrow on the shore !
The smile that blessed one lover's heart
Has broken many more !
T. Hood.
RUTH
She stood breast high amid the corn,
Clasped by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.
On her cheek an autumn flush, 5
Deeply ripened ; — such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.
Round her eyes her tresses fell,
Which were blackest none could tell, 10
But long lashes veiled a light,
That had else been all too bright.
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BYRON 39
And her hat, with shady brim,
Made her tressy forehead dim; —
Thus she stood amid the stooks, 15
Praising God with sweetest looks : —
Sure, I said, heaven did not mean
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean,
Lay thy sheaf adown and come,
Share my harvest and my home. 20
T. Hood,
THERE BE NONE OF BEAUTY'S DAUGHTERS
There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee ;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me :
When, as if its sound were causing 5
The charmed ocean's pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lulled winds seem dreaming :
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep ; 10
Whose breast is gently heaving,
As an infant's asleep :
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee ;
With a full but soft emotion, 15
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
Lord Byron,
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40 H. COLERIDGE
ONE WOBD IS TOO OFTEN PROFANED
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair 5
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not 10
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not, —
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar 15
From the sphere of our sorrow?
P. B. Shelley.
SHE IS NOT FAIR TO OUTWARD VIEW
She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be ;
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me ;
O, then I saw her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light !
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BARNES ( 41
But now her looks axe coy and cold,
To mine they ne'er reply,
And yet I cease not to behold
The love-light in her eye : 10
Her very frowns are fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are*
H. Coleridge.
BLACKMWORE MAIDENS
The primrwose in the sheade do blow,
The cowslip in the zun,
The thyme upon the down do grow,
The dote where streams do run ;
An' where do pretty maidens grow
An' blow, but where the tow'r
Do rise among the bricken tuns,
In Blackmwore by the Stour.
If you could zee their comely gait,
An' pretty fe&ces' smiles, 10
A-tripp^n on so light o' waight,
An' stepp£n off the stiles ;
A-gwai'n to church, as bells do swing
An' ring within the tow'r,
You'd own the pretty maidens' ple&ce 15
Is Blackmwore by the Stour.
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42 BARNES
If you vrom Wimborne took your road,
To Stower or Paladore,
An' all the farmers' housen show'd
Their daughters at the door ; 20
You'd cry to bachelors at hwome —
6 Here, come : 'ithin an hour
You'll vind ten maidens to your mind,
In Blackmwore by the Stour.'
An' if you look'd 'ithin their door, 25
To zee em in their pleace,
A-dodn housework up avore
Their smil£n mother's feace ;
You'd cry — * Why, if a man would wive
An' thrive, 'ithout a dow'r, 30
Then let en look en out a wife
In Blackmwore by the Stour.'
As I upon my road did pass
A school-house back in May,
There out upon the beaten grass 35
Wer maidens at their play ;
An' as the pretty souls did tweil
An' smile, I cried, ' The flow'r
O' beauty, then, is still in bud
In Blackmwore by the Stour.* 40
W. Barnes.
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BRETON 43
SONG
Nay but you, who do not love her,
Is she not pure gold, my mistress ?
Holds earth aught — speak truth — above her ?
Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,
And this last fairest tress of all,
So fair, see, ere I let it fall ?
Because, you spend your lives in praising ;
To praise, you search the wide world over :
So, why not witness, calmly gazing,
If earth holds aught — speak truth — above her ?
Above this tress, and this I touch i
But cannot praise, I love so much !
R. Browning.
IN THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY
In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked by the wood-side,
Whenas May was in his pride :
There I spi&d all alone
Phillida and Corydon.
Much ado there was, God wot !
He would love and she would not.
She said, Never man was true ;
He said, None was false to you.
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44 SIDNEY
He said, He had loved her long ;
She said, Love should have no wrong.
Corydon would kiss her then ;
She said. Maids must kiss no men
Till they did for good and all ; 15
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, faith and troth, 20
Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not love abuse,
Love, which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded ;
And Phillida with garlands gay 25
Was made the Lady of the May.
N. Breton.
MY TRUE LOVE HATH MY HEART j
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for another given :
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss ;
There never was a better bargain driven :
My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 5
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides :
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his because in me it bides :
My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 10
Sie P. Sidney.
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SHAKESPEARE 45
IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS
It was a lover and his lass.
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ; 5
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
These pretty country folks would lie,
In the spring time, &c. 10
This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that a life was but a flower
In the spring time, &c.
And therefore take the present time, 15
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ;
For love is crowned with the prime
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ;
Sweet lovers love the spring. 20
W* Shakespeare*
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46 MARLOWE
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks 5
And see the shepherds feed their flocks.
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies, 10
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair lined slippers for the cold, 15
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs :
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love. 20
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning :
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
C. Marlowe.
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RALEGH 47
THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold, 5
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold ;
And Philomel becometh dumb ;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade ; and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields : 10
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, i$
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love. 20
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.
Sir W. Ralegh.
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48 DONNE
THE GOOD-MORROW
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved ? were we not weaned till then ?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly ?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ?
'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be. 5
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls, 10
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, 15
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest,
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west ?
What ever dies, was not mixed equally ;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I ao
Love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.
J. Donne.
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DONNE . 49
THE ECSTASY
Where, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank swelled up, to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented 5
With a fast balm, which thence did spring,
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string ;
So to intergraf t our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one, xo
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As 'twixt two equal armies, Fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls (which to advance their state 15
Were gone out) hung 'twixt her and me.
And whilst our souls negotiate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay ;
All day the same our postures were,
And we said nothing all the day. 20
If any, so by love refined
That he souls' language understood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within convenient distance stood,
He (though he knew not which soul spake, 25
Because both meant, both spake the same)
Might thence a new concoction take,
And part far purer than he came.
O.Q.— LOVE n
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50 DONNE
This ecstasy doth unperplex \_-^-
(We said) and tell us what we love, 30
We see by this it was not sex,
We see we saw not what did move :
But as all several souls contain
Mixture of things, they know not what,
Love these mixed souls doth mix again, 35
And makes both one, each this and that.
A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size
(All which before was poor and scant),
Redoubles still and multiplies. 40
When love, with one another so
Interinanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controls.
We then, who are this new soul, know 45
Of what we are composed and made,
For the atomies of which we grow
Are souls, whom no change can invade.
But O alas, so long, so far
Our bodies why do we forbear ? 5°
They are ours, though they are not we, we are
The intelligences, they the sphere.
We owe them thanks, because they thus
Did us, to us, at first convey,
Yielded their forces, sense, to us, 55
Nor are dross to us, but allay.
On man heaven's influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air,
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BLAKE 51
So soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to body first repair. 60
As our blood labours to beget
Spirits, as like souls as it can,
Because such fingers need to knit
That subtle knot which makes us man :
So must pure lovers' souls descend 65
To affections, and to faculties.
Which sense may reach and apprehend,
Else a great prince in prison lies.
To our bodies turn we then, that so
Weak men on love revealed may look ; 70
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see 75
Small change, when we are to bodies gone.
J. Donne.
NEVER SEEK TO TELL THY LOVE
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be ;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.
D2
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HERRICK
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart ;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah ! she doth depart.
Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveller came by, i
Silently, invisibly :
He took her with a sigh.
W. Blake.
TO HIS MISTRESS, OBJECTING TO HIM
NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING
You say I love not, 'cause I do not play
Still with your curls, and kiss the time away.
You blame me, too, because I can't devise
Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes ;
By love's religion, I must here confess it, 5
The most I love when I the least express it.
Small griefs find tongues ; full casks are ever found
To give, if any, yet but little sound.
Deep waters noiseless are ; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depth below. 10
So when love speechless is, she doth express