University of Virginia Library

On a Lillie in his Ladies hand.

Blest in thy happy bed fair Lilly lye,
To shade thee from the Sun of her bright eye;
But do not in a wanton pride prefer
Thy self, as adding whiteness unto her,
Alas what glory could in thee appear
So eminent, if not transplanted there?
But see, thou fad'st already, poor proud flowr
Whose fate is limited to one short hour;
And since thou wouldst for such a beutie vie,
Thy conquerd envie makes thee pale & die.
Come sit thee down, & with a myslin charm
Ceaze my incircled arm,
Till lockt in fast, imbraces we discover
In every eye a lover,
Then lost in that sweet extacy of blisses,
Wee'l speak our thoughts in kisses.
In which wee'l melt our souls, and mix them so,
That what is thine or mine, ther's none shall know:
Rare mystery of love, and wondere too.
Which none but we can do:
Nor shall the leaden spirits of all those,
Who speak of love in tame prose:
Believe our joyes: but duly ceusure us,
Onely for loving thus.
Ah! how I smile, that doubtly blest, we do
Injoy our selves, and all their envy too.