To your unpattern'd self were to require
A language only form'd in the desire

Of him that writes. It is the common fate
Of greatest duties to evaporate

In silent meaning, as we often see

Fires by their too much fuel smother'd be :
Small obligations may find vent, and speak,
When greater the unable debtor break.

And such are mine to you, whose favour'd store
Hath made me poorer than I was before :
For I want words and language to declare
How strict my bond, or large your bounties are.

Since nothing in my desperate fortune found
Can payment make, nor yet the sum compound,
You must lose all or else of force accept
The body of a bankrupt for your debt.
Then, Love! your bond to execution sue,
And take myself as forfeited to you!

ROBERT HERRICK.

1591-4-1674.

TO JULIA.

Her lamp the glow-worm lend thee!
The shooting stars attend thee!
And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow

Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee!

No Will-o'the-Wisp mislight thee!
Nor snake nor slow-worm bite thee!
But on! on thy way,

Not making a stay,

Since ghost there's none to affright thee!

Let not the dark thee cumber!
What though the moon does slumber,

The stars of the night

Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia! let me woo thee

Thus, thus to come unto me :
And when I shall meet

Thy silvery feet,

My soul I'll pour into thee.

TO DAFFODILS.

Fair Daffodils! we weep to see

You haste away so soon;

As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon :
Stay! stay

Until the hastening day

Has run

But to the even-song!

And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay as you,
We have as short a Spring ;
As quick a growth to meet decay
As you, or anything:
We die

As your hours do, and dry

Away

Like to the summer's rain,

Or as the pearls of morning dew,
Ne'er to be found again.

TO BLOSSOMS.

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree !

Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past

But you may stay yet here awhile
To blush and gently smile,

And go at last.

What! were ye born to be

An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid Good-Night?
'Tis pity Nature brought ye forth
Merely to show your worth
And lose you quite.

But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave :
And after they have shown their pride
you awhile, they glide

Like

Into the grave.

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.

You're the Maiden Posies

And, so graced,

To be placed

'Fore Damask Roses.

Yet, though thus respected,

By-and-by

Ye do lie,

Poor Girls! neglected.

THE TEAR.

Glide, gentle Streams! and bear Along with you my tear

To that coy Girl

Who smiles, yet slays

Me with delays,

And strings my tears as pearl.

See! see! She's yonder set,
Making a carcanet

Of maiden flowers :

There, there present
This orient

And pendant pearl of ours!

Then say I've sent one more

Gem to enrich her store;
And that is all

Which I can send

Or vainly spend,

For tears no more will fall.

Nor will I seek supply

Of them, the springs once dry;

But I'll devise

(Among the rest) A way that's best

How I may save mine eyes.

Yet say, should She condemn
Me to surrender them,-

Then say, my part

Must be to weep
Out them, to keep
A poor yet loving heart.

Say too, She would have this:
She shall. Then my hope is
That, when I'm poor,

And nothing have

To send or save,

I'm sure She'll ask no more.

TO WATER-NYMPHS

DRINKING AT A FOUNTAIN.

Reach with your whiter hands to me

Some crystal of the spring! And I about the cup shall see

Fresh lilies flourishing.

Or else, sweet Nymphs! do you but this :
To the glass your lips incline,

And I shall see by that one kiss
The water turn'd to wine.

TO ELECTRA.

I dare not ask a kiss,

I dare not beg a smile,

Lest having that or this

I might grow proud the while.

No! no! the utmost share

Of my desire shall be

Only to kiss that air

That lately kissed thee.

A VALENTINE.

Choose me your Valentine!

Next, let us marry!

Love to the death will pine

If we long tarry.