39 WHY FLOWERS CHANGE COLOR THESE fresh beauties, we can prove, Once were virgins sick of love, Turn'd to flowers. Still in some Colors go, and colors come. 40 HIS REQUEST TO JULIA JULIA, if I chance to die 41 DELIGHT IN DISORDER A SWEET disorder in the dress An erring lace which here and there A winning wave, deserving note, A careless shoe-string, in whose tie Do more bewitch me than when art 42 TO HIS MUSE WERE I to give the baptism, I would choose To christen thee, the bride, the bashful muse, Or muse of roses; since that name does fit Best with those virgin verses thou hast writ, Which are so clean, so chaste, as none may fear Cato the censor, should he scan each here. 43 TO DEAN BOURN, A RUDE RIVER IN DEVON, BY WHICH SOMETIMES HE LIVED DEAN BOURN, farewell; I never look to see Dean, or thy watery incivility. Thy rocky bottom, that doth tear thy streams And makes them frantic even to all ex tremes, To my content I never should behold, Were thy streams silver, or thy rocks all gold. Rocky thou art, and rocky we discover A people currish, churlish as the seas, With whom I did, and may re-sojourn when 44 TO JULIA How rich and pleasing thou, my Julia, art There plays the sapphire with the chrysolite. No part besides must of thyself be known, But by the topaz, opal, calcedon. 45 TO LAURELS A FUNERAL stone, Or verse I covet none, But only crave Of you that I may have A sacred laurel springing from my grave, Blest with perpetual green, Not so much call'd a tree As the eternal monument of me. 46 AMBITION IN man ambition is the commonest thing: Each one by nature loves to be a king. 47 THE BAG OF THE BEE ABOUT the sweet bag of a bee Two cupids fell at odds, And whose the pretty prize should be Which Venus hearing, thither came, Which done, to still their wanton cries, When quiet grown she 'd seen them, She kiss'd, and wip'd their dove-like eyes, And gave the bag between them. 48 LOVE KILLED BY LACK LET me be warm, let me be fully fed, Luxurious love by wealth is nourished. Let me be lean, and cold, and once grown poor, I shall dislike what once I lov'd before. 49 BEING ONCE BLIND, HIS REQUEST TO BIANCHA WHEN age or chance has made me blind, So that the path I cannot find, And when my falls and stumblings are More than the stones i' th' street by far, Go thou afore, and I shall well Follow thy perfumes by the smell; |