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PHILLIS AND CORYDON
Phillis took a red rose from the tangles of her hair,-- Time, the Golden Age; the place, Arcadia, anywhere,--
Phillis laughed, the saucy jade: "Sir Shepherd, wilt have this, Or"--Bashful G.o.d of skipping lambs and oaten reeds!--"a kiss?"
Bethink thee, gentle Corydon! A rose lasts all night long, A kiss but slips from off your lips like a thrush's evening song.
A kiss that goes, where no one knows! A rose, a crimson rose!
Corydon made his choice and took--Well, which do you suppose?
Arthur Colton [1868-
AT HER WINDOW
"HARK, HARK, THE LARK"
From "Cymbeline"
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty bin, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
William Shakespeare [1564-1616]
"SLEEP, ANGRY BEAUTY"
Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me!
For who a sleeping lion dares provoke?
It shall suffice me here to sit and see Those lips shut up, that never kindly spoke: What sight can more content a lover's mind Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind?
My words have charmed her, for secure she sleeps, Though guilty much of wrong done to my love; And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps: Dreams often more than waking pa.s.sions move.
Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee: That she is peace may wake and pity me.
Thomas Campion [?--1619]
MATIN SONG
Rise, Lady Mistress, rise!
The night hath tedious been; No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes Nor slumbers made me sin.
Is not she a saint then, say, Thoughts of whom keep sin away?
Rise, Madam! rise and give me light, Whom darkness still will cover, And ignorance, darker than night, Till thou smile on thy lover.
All want day till thy beauty rise; For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes.
Nathaniel Field [1587-1633]
THE NIGHT-PIECE: TO JULIA
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
No Will-o'-the-wisp mislight thee, Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee; But on, on thy way Not making a stay, Since ghost there's none to affright thee.
Let not the dark thee c.u.mber: What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night Will lend thee their light Like tapers clear without number.
Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me; And when I shall meet Thy silvery feet, My soul I'll pour into thee.
Robert Herrick [1591-1674]
MORNING
The lark now leaves his watery nest, And climbing shakes his dewy wings, He takes your window for the east, And to implore your light, he sings; Awake, awake, the morn will never rise, Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.
The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes; But still the lover wonders what they are, Who look for day before his mistress wakes; Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn!
Then draw your curtains and begin the dawn.
William D'Avenant [1606-1668]
