Yet when the hour of Thy design
To answer these fine things shall come,
Speak not at large, say, I am Thine,
And then they have their answer home.
SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky:
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye :
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie: My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives,
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
COME, my Way, my Truth, my Life:
Such a Way as gives us breath,
Such a Truth as ends all strife,
And such a Life as killeth death!
Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:
Such a Light as shows a feast,
Such a Feast as mends in length,
Such a Strength as makes his guest!
Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart :
Such a Joy as none can move,
Such a Love as none can part,
Such a Heart as joys in love!
CHERRY-RIPE
CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry!
Full and fair ones! Come and buy!
If so be you ask me where
They do grow, I answer:-"There,
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.'
FOLD now thine arms, and hang the head
Like to a lily withered;
Next look thou like a sickly moon,
Or like Jocasta in a swoon;
Then weep, and sigh, and softly go
Like to a widow drown'd in woe,
Or like a virgin full of ruth
For the lost sweetheart of her youth:
And all because, fair maid, thou art
Insensible of all my smart,
And of those evil days that be
Now posting on to punish thee!
The gods are easy, and condemn
All such as are not soft like them.
SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes
Which, starlike, sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see
All hearts your captives, yours yet free;
Be you not proud of that rich hair
Which wantons with the love-sick air :
Whenas that ruby, which you wear
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,
Will last to be a precious stone
When all your world of beauty's gone.
GOING A-MAYING
GET up, get up for shame! The blooming Morn
Upon her wings presents the God unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair,
Fresh-quilted colours through the air :
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangle herb and tree!
Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the east
Above an hour since: yet you not dress'd?
Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said
And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,
Nay! profanation to keep in,
Whereas a thousand virgins on this day
Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May.
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:
Fear not; the leaves will strew
Gems in abundance upon you:
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept !
Come and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the Night:
And Titan on the eastern hill
Retires himself, or else stands still.
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
How each field turns a street, each street a park
Made green and trimm'd with trees; see how
Devotion gives each house a bough
Or branch: each porch, each door ere this
An ark, a tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove,
As if here were those cooler shades of love!
Can such delights be in the street
And open fields, and we not see 't?
Come, we'll abroad; and let's obey
The proclamation made for May,
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying,
But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying!
There's not a budding boy or girl this day
But is got up. and gone to bring in May.
A deal of youth ere this is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream
Before that we have left to dream:
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
From out the eye, love's firmament !
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,
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drowned with us in endless night.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.
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