“O bright-ey'd Virgin! O how fair thou art!
“O how I love thee, My Snowe-winged Dove!
“O how I love thee! Thou hast rapt my heart:
“For thee I Dy: For thee I Live, my Love.
“How fair art thou, my Dear! How dear to mee!
“Dear Soule (awake) I faint, I sink, I swoun
“At thy dear Sight: and, when I sleep, for Thee
“Within my brest still wakes my sharp-sweet Wound.
“My Loue, what Odours thy sweet Tresse it yields!
“What Amber-greece, what Incense breath'st thou out
“From purple fillets! and what Myrrhe distils
“Still from thy Fingers, ringd with Gold about!
“Sweet-Heart, how sweet is th'Odour of thy Prayse!
“O what sweet airs doth thy sweet air deliver
“Vnto my burning Soule! What hony Layes
“Flowe from thy throat! thy throat a golden River.
“Among the Flowrs, my Flowr's a Rose, a Lilly:
“A Rose, a Lilly; this a Bud, that blow'n:
“This fragrant Flowr first of all gather will-I,
“Smell to it, kisse it, wear it as mine owne.
“Among the Trees, my Love's an Apple-Tree,
“Thy fruitfull Stem bears Flowr and Fruit together:
“I'll smell thy Flowr, thy Fruit shall nourish mee,
“And in thy Shadow will I rest for ever.
