But you are lovely leaves, where we TO DAFFODILS FAIR Daffodils, we weep to see Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, As quick a growth to meet decay We die, As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the Summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again. TO VIOLETS WELCOME, Maids of Honour ! You do bring In the Spring, And wait upon her. She has Virgins many, Fresh and fair; Yet you are More sweet than any. Ye are the Maiden Posies, And so graced To be placed 'Fore damask roses. But, though thus respected, By and by Ye do lie, Poor girls, neglected. TO PRIMROSES WHY do ye weep, sweet babes? can tears Speak grief in you, Who were but born Just as the modest morn Teemed her refreshing dew? Alas, you have not known that shower That mars a flower; Nor felt th' unkind Breath of a blasting wind; Nor are ye worn with years; Or warped as we, Who think it strange to see Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, Speak, whimp'ring younglings, and make known The reason, why Ye droop and weep; Is it for want of sleep? Or childish lullaby? Or that ye have not seen as yet The violet? Or brought a kiss From that sweetheart to this? No, no, this sorrow shown By your tears shed, Would have this lecture read, That things of greatest, so of meanest, worth, Conceived with care are, and with tears brought forth. TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON SHUT not so soon; the dull-eyed night To make a seizure on the light, No marigolds yet closed are, No shadows great appear; Nor doth the early shepherd's star Stay but till my Julia close Her life-begetting eye, And let the whole world then dispose TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME GATHER ye rose-buds while ye may, And this same flower that smiles to-day The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun, The sooner will his race be run, That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time; DRESS A SWEET disorder in the dress An erring lace, which here and there I see a wild civility, Do more bewitch me, than when art IN SILKS WHENAS in silks my Julia goes, Next, when I cast mine eyes and see O how that glittering taketh me! CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYING GET up, get up for shame! The blooming morn The dew bespangling herb and tree. Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the east, Above an hour since; yet you not drest Nay! not so much as out of bed, When all the birds have matins said, |