University of Virginia Library


38

[Call the spring with all her Flowrs]

Call the spring with all her Flowrs,
bid the winged Syrens sing
let Loves keen Arrows from the Bowrs
be shot by ev'ry warbling string.
My Amarillis never drew
Her shining dart and sounding Bow,
But then as many graces flew,
And yet she is a fiel'd of snow.