 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
TO ------.
Methinks the Graces had thee in joint care,And, at thy birth receiving thee, gave heed
That only sweetest influences should feed
Thy fancy; that the gates of sense, which are
Then opening, should admit none but most rare
And delicate conceits; and every need
Of mind and nature with all best to speed
Of gentlest, sweetest, in its kind most fair.
Small wonder then that such a paragon
Love saw, and, seeing, fell himself in love!
Played his own game, and aimed his darts anon,
But found their fire quenched by one above;
So puts, like me, the humble suitor on,
Nor strives to conquer, but, as Love, to move.
| Stones from The Quarry | |