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71
To the same.
he Rose.
After the honey drops of pearly showersUrania walk'd to gather flowers:
Sweet Rose (I heard her say) why are these feares?
Are these drops on thy cheek thy teares?
By those thy beauty fresher is, thy smell
Arabian spices doth excell.
This rain (the Rose replied) feeds and betrays
My odours; adds and cuts off dayes:
Had not I spread my leaves to catch this dew
My scent had not invited you,
Urania sigh'd and softly said, 'tis so,
Showers blow the rose and ripen woe:
For mine (a lasse) when washt in flouds sweet clean,
Heaven put his hand forth and did glean.
Poems | ||