There's not a budding boy or girl this But is got up and gone to bring in May. cream Before that we have left to dream; And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth, And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth. Many a green-gown has been given, Many a jest told of the keys betraying This night, and locks pick'd, yet we 're not a-Maying. Come, let us go while we are in our prime, Before we know our liberty. All love, all liking, all delight Lies drown'd with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying. 70 UPON HER VOICE LET but thy voice engender with the string, And angels will be born while thou dost sing. 71 THE CAPTIV'D BEE, OR THE LITTLE FILCHER As Julia once a-slumbering lay It chanced a bee did fly that way, After a dew or dew-like shower, To tipple freely in a flower. For some rich flower he took the lip Of Julia, and began to sip; But when he felt he sucked from thence Honey and in the quintessence, He drank so much he scarce could stir, So Julia took the pilferer. And thus surpris'd, as filchers use, He thus began himself t' excuse: "Sweet lady flower, I never brought And told her, as some tears did fall, 72 ON HIMSELF LOST to the world; lost to myself; alone Here now I rest under this marble stone, In depth of silence, heard and seen of none. 73 THE LILY IN A CRYSTAL You have beheld a smiling rose And here you see this lily shows, You see how cream but naked is Or some fine tincture like to this, You see how amber through the streams More gently strokes the sight With some conceal'd delight, Than when he darts his radiant beams Into the boundless air; Where either too much light his worth Doth all at once impair, Or set it little forth. Put purple grapes or cherries in- More beauty to commend Them from that clean and subtle skin Than if they naked stood, And had no other pride at all But their own flesh and blood Thus lily, rose, grape, cherry, cream, More love when they transfer Thus let this crystal'd lily be By art's wise hand, but to this end Lest they too far extend. So though you 're white as swan or snow, And have the power to move A world of men to love, Yet when your lawns and silks shall flow, |