Richard Lovelace

Ode to Lucasta. the Rose

I.
 
Sweet serene skye—like Flower,
Haste to adorn her Bower:
   From thy long clowdy bed,
   Shoot forth thy damaske head.
 
                        II.
 
New—startled blush of Flora!
The griefe of pale Aurora,
   Who will contest no more ;
   Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
 
                        III.
 
Vermilion Ball that’s given
From lip to lip in Heaven ;
   Love’s Couches cover—led:
   Haste, haste, to make her bed.
 
                        IV.
 
Dear Offspring of pleas’d Venus,
And Jollie, plumpe Silenus ;
   Haste, haste, to decke the Haire
   Of th’ only, sweetly Faire.
 
                        V.
 
See! Rosie is her Bower,
Her floore is all this Flower ;
   Her Bed a Rosie nest
   By a Bed of Roses prest.
 
                        VI.
 
But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright Tresses?
   Ah! I have found I feare ;
   Because her Cheekes are neere.
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