Eyes that bestow
Full quivers on love’s bow,
Yet pay less arrows than they owe.
Smiles that can warm
The blood, yet teach a charm,
That chastity shall take no harm.
Blushes that bin
The burnish of no sin,
Nor flames of aught too hot within.
Joys that confess,
Virtue their mistress,
And have no other head to dress.
Fears fond and slight
As the coy bride’s, when night
First does the longing lover right.
Tears quickly fled,
And vain, as those are shed
For a dying maidenhead.
Soft silken hours,
Open suns, shady bowers;
’Bove all, nothing within that lowers.
Days that need borrow
No part of their good-morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.
Days that in spite
Of darkness, by the light
Of a clear mind, are day all night.
Nights, sweet as they,
Made short by lovers’ play,
Yet long by the absence of the day.