...TO CELIA

Drinke to me onely with thine eyes
And Iwill pledge with mine
Or leave a kisse but in the cup
And Ile not looke for wine
The thirst that from the soule doth rise
Doth aske a drinke divine
But might I of Jove"s Nectar sup
I would not change for thine
I sent thee late a rosie wreath
Not so much honoring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered bee
But thou thereon did"st onely breath
And sent"st It back to mee
Since when It growes and smells I sweare
Not of It selfe but thee

قصيدة رائعة من مسرحية فولبوني

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