Ben Jonson. 1573-1637
185. To Celia
1 min to read
102 words

DRINK to me only with thine eyes,   And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup   And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise   Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup,   I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,   Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there   It could not wither'd be; But thou thereon didst only breathe,   And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,   Not of itself but thee!

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Ben Jonson. 1573-1637
186. Simplex Munditiis
1 min to read
81 words
Return to The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250–1900






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