Enter thy garden: ere thou may’st no more
Behold them, love them who live but for thee.
Greet them, ere they through Autumn’s gate depart:
Since for thy pleasuring God made them be,
Gaze on them gladly,—on me too, sweet heart,
Who for thy sake alone live; give me one
Welcome, once smile on me, ere I be gone.
27
Tell me not, mournful Preacher, that to prize
Beauty of flower or song or mistress fair,