The Home Book of Verse Volume Ii Part 11

OF PHYLLIS

In petticoat of green, Her hair about her eyne, Phyllis beneath an oak Sat milking her fair flock: Among that sweet-strained moisture, rare delight, Her hand seemed milk in milk, it was so white.

William Drummond [1585-1649]

A WELCOME

Welcome, welcome, do I sing, Far more welcome than the spring; He that parteth from you never Shall enjoy a spring forever.

He that to the voice is near, Breaking from your ivory pale, Need not walk abroad to hear The delightful nightingale.

He that looks still on your eyes, Though the winter have begun To benumb our arteries, Shall not want the summer's sun.

He that still may see your cheeks, Where all rareness still reposes, Is a fool if e'er he seeks Other lilies, other roses.

He to whom your soft lip yields, And perceives your breath in kissing, All the odors of the fields Never, never shall be missing.

He that question would anew What fair Eden was of old, Let him rightly study you, And a brief of that behold.

Welcome, welcome, then I sing, Far more welcome than the spring; He that parteth from you never, Shall enjoy a spring forever.

William Browne [1591-1643?]

THE COMPLETE LOVER

For her gait, if she be walking; Be she sitting, I desire her For her state's sake; and admire her For her wit if she be talking; Gait and state and wit approve her; For which all and each I love her.

Be she sullen, I commend her For a modest. Be she merry, For a kind one her prefer I.

Briefly, everything doth lend her So much grace, and so approve her, That for everything I love her.

William Browne [1591-1643?]

RUBIES AND PEARLS

Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say, But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.

Some asked how pearls did grow, and where; Then spoke I to my girl, To part her lips, and showed them there The quarrelets of pearl.

Robert Herrick [1591-1674]

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!

Robert Herrick [1591-1674]

TO CYNTHIA ON CONCEALMENT OF HER BEAUTY

Do not conceal those radiant eyes, The starlight of serenest skies; Lest, wanting of their heavenly light, They turn to chaos' endless night!

Do not conceal those tresses fair, The silken snares of thy curled hair; Lest, finding neither gold nor ore, The curious silk-worm work no more.

Do not conceal those b.r.e.a.s.t.s of thine, More snow-white than the Apennine; Lest, if there be like cold and frost, The lily be for ever lost.

Do not conceal that fragrant scent, Thy breath, which to all flowers hath lent Perfumes; lest, it being suppressed, No spices grow in all the East.

Do not conceal thy heavenly voice, Which makes the hearts of G.o.ds rejoice; Lest, music hearing no such thing, The nightingale forget to sing.

Do not conceal, nor yet eclipse, Thy pearly teeth with coral lips; Lest that the seas cease to bring forth Gems which from thee have all their worth.

Do not conceal no beauty, grace, That's either in thy mind or face; Lest virtue overcome by vice Make men believe no Paradise.

Francis Kynaston [1587-1642]

SONG

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's 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.