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Fears, fond and slight

As the coy bride's, when night

• First does the longing lover right.

Days, that need borrow

No part of their good-morrow

From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

Days, that in spite

Of darkness, by the light

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Of a clear mind, are day all night.

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Nights, sweet as they,

Made short by lovers' play,

Yet long by th' absence of the day.

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Life, that dares send

A challenge to his end,

And when it comes, say, "Welcome, friend!"

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Sydnæan showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers

Soft silken hours,

Open suns, shady bowers;

'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

Whate'er delight

Can make Day's forehead bright,

Or give down to the wings of Night.

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1646.

I wish her store

Of worth may leave her poor

Of wishes; and I wish-no more.

Now, if Time knows

That her, whose radiant brows

Weave them a garland of my vows;

Her, whose just bays

My future hopes can raise,

A trophy to her present praise;

Her, that dares be

What these lines wish to see;

I seek no further, it is She.

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'Tis she, and here,

Lo! I unclothe and clear

My wishes' cloudy character.

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May she enjoy it

Whose merit dare apply it,

But modesty dares still deny it!

Such worth as this is

Shall fix my flying Wishes,

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And determine them to kisses.

III

Let her full glory,

My fancies, fly before ye;

Be ye my fictions—but her story.

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Richard Crashaw.

ENCOURAGEMENTS TO A LOVER

1538.

WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?
Prythee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?

Prythee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prythee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do 't?

Prythee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move,

This cannot take her;

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her:

The D-1 take her!

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Sir John Suckling.

CONSTANCY

OUT upon it, I have loved

Three whole days together!

And am like to love three more,

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Time shall moult away his wings
Ere he shall discover

In the whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.

But the spite on 't is, no praise

Is due at all to me:

Love with me had made no stays,
Had it any been but she.

Had it any been but she,

And that very face,

There had been at least ere this

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A dozen dozen in her place.

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1638.

Sir John Suckling.

1648.

TO DIANEME

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.

Robert Herrick.

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UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES

WHENAS in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes!

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free,

-O how that glittering taketh me!

1648

Robert Herrick.

1648.

THE PRIMROSE

Ask me why I send you here
This sweet Infanta of the year?
Ask me why I send to you

This primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew?
I will whisper to your ears:-

The sweets of love are mix'd with tears. 6

Ask me why this flower does show
So yellow-green, and sickly too?
Ask me why the stalk is weak

And bending (yet it doth not break)?
I will answer:-These discover
What fainting hopes are in a lover.

Robert Herrick.

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