And when with envy time transported,
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,
And I'll go wooing in my boys.

LXVII

Anon.

A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW.

Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, Love, in love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent
Walking here, two shadows went

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Along with us, which we ourselves produced :

5

But, now the sun is just above our head,

We do those shadows tread,

And to brave clearness all things are reduced.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,

Disguises did and shadows flow

From us and from our cares; but now it is not so.

ΤΟ

That love hath not attained the high'st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see;

Except our loves at this noon stay,

We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind
Others, these which come behind

Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes,
If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,

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To me thou falsely thine,

And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,

But these grow longer all the day;

But, oh! love's day is short, if love decay.

Love is a growing or full constant light,
And his short minute, after noon, is night.

John Donne.

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And when with envy time transported,
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,
And I'll go wooing in my boys.

30

Anon.

LXVII

A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW.

Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, Love, in love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent
Walking here, two shadows went

Along with us, which we ourselves produced :
But, now the sun is just above our head,

5

We do those shadows tread,

And to brave clearness all things are reduced.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,

Disguises did and shadows flow

From us and from our cares; but now it is not so.

10

That love hath not attained the high'st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see;

Except our loves at this noon stay,

We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind

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Others, these which come behind

Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes,
If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,

To me thou falsely thine,

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And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.

The morning shadows wear away,

But these grow longer all the day;

But, oh! love's day is short, if love decay.

Love is a growing or full constant light,
And his short minute, after noon, is night.

John Donne

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LXVIII

SONG.

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauties, orient deep,
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more, whither do stray
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;
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
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.

Thomas Carew.

LXIX

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 bepearled with dew?

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The sweets of love are mixed with tears.

I will whisper to your ears,

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.

LXX

TRUE LOVELINESS.

It is not beauty I demand,

A crystal brow, the moon's despair,
Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand,
Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair :

Tell me not of your starry eyes,

ΙΟ

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Your lips that seem on roses fed,

Your breasts, where Cupid tumbling lies,
Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed :----

A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks,
Like Hebe's in her ruddiest hours,
A breath that softer music speaks

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Than summer winds a-wooing flowers,

These are but gauds: nay, what are lips?
Coral beneath the ocean-stream,

Whose brink when your adventurer slips,
Full oft he perisheth on them.

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And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft
That wave hot youth to fields of blood?
Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft,
Do Greece or Ilium any good?

Eyes can with baleful ardour burn;
Poison can breathe, that erst perfumed;

There's many a white hand holds an urn
With lovers' hearts to dust consumed.

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