from the spring;
Some laid her forth, while others wept,
But all a solemn fast there kept:
The holy sisters,
The sacred dirge and trental1 sung.
But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,
had spent all perfumes there.
At last, when prayers for the dead
And rites were all accomplishàd,
weeping, spread a lawny loom,
And closed her up as in a tomb.
CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come and buy.
If so be you ask me where
do grow, I answer: There
Where my Julias lips do smile;
Theres the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show
the year where cherries grow.
YOU are a tulip seen to-day,
But, dearest, of so short a stay
That where you grew scarce man
You are a lovely July-flower,
Yet one rude wind or ruffling shower
Will force you hence, and in
You are a sparkling rose i th bud,
Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show where
you or grew or stood.
You are a full-spread, fair-set vine,
And can with tendrils love entwine,
Yet dried ere you distil
You are like balm enclosàd well
In amber or some crystal shell,
Yet lost ere you transfuse your
You are a dainty violet,
Yet witherd ere you can be set
Within the virgins coronet.
You are the queen all flowers among;
But die you must, fair maid, ere long,
As he, the maker
of this song.
A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher:
neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly:
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me than when art
precise in every part.
WHENAS in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
of her clothes!
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free,
O how that
glittering taketh me!
WHY I tie about thy wrist,
Julia, this silken twist;
For what other reason ist
But to show thee
how, in part,
Thou my pretty captive art?
But thy bond-slave is my heart:
Tis but silk that bindeth thee,
the thread and thou art free;
But tis otherwise with me:
I am bound and fast bound, so
That from thee I
If I could, I would not so.
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