By those soft tods of wool With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there, That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain

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 wit… I will whisper to your ears,—

Why I tie about thy wrist, Julia, this my silken twist? For what other reason is’t, But to shew thee how in part Thou my pretty captive art?

My faithful friend, if you can see The fruit to grow up, or the tree; If you can see the colour come Into the blushing pear or plum; If you can see the water grow

Since shed or cottage I have none… I sing the more, that thou hast on… To whose glad threshold, and free… I may a Poet come, though poor; And eat with thee a savoury bit,

Bid me to live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee. A heart as soft, a heart as kind,

How Love came in, I do not know, Whether by th’ eye, or eare, or no… Or whether with the soule it came (At first) infused with the same: Whether in part ‘tis here or there…

Is this a life, to break thy sleep… To rise as soon as day doth peep? To tire thy patient ox or ass By noon, and let thy good days pas… Not knowing this, that Jove decre…

First, April, she with mellow sho… Opens the way for early flowers; Then after her comes smiling May, In a more rich and sweet array; Next enters June, and brings us m…

Life is the body’s light; which, o… Those crimson clouds i’ th’ cheeks… Those counter-changed tabbies in t… The sun once set, all of one colou… So, when death comes, fresh tinctu…

So Good-Luck came, and on my roof… Like noiseless snow, or as the dew… Not all at once, but gently,- as t… Are by the sun-beams, tickled by d…

Health is the first good lent to m… A gentle disposition then: Next, to be rich by no by-ways; Lastly, with friends t’ enjoy our…

When I thy singing next shall hea… I’ll wish I might turn all to ear… To drink-in notes and numbers, suc… As blessed souls can’t hear too mu… Then melted down, there let me lie

Ah Ben! Say how, or when Shall we thy guests Meet at those lyric feasts Made at the Sun,

Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, —'Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown;