TAKE, O TAKE THOSE LIPS [From Measure for Measure.] TAKE, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; Hide, O hide those hills of snow, Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears: But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee. LOVE AND LUST. [From Venus and Adonis.] LOVE Comforteth like sunshine after rain; But I ust's effect is tempest after sun; Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain; Lust's winter comes, ere summer half be done. Love surfeits not; Lust like a glutton dies: Love is all truth; Lust full of forged lies. SUNRISE. [From Venus and Adonis.] Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast The sun ariseth in his najesty; Who doth the world so gloriously be hold, The cedar-tops and hills seem bur nish d gold. LUCRETIA SLEEPING. [From Rape of Lucrece HER lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, Swelling on either side to want his bliss; Between whose hills her head entombed is; Without the bed her other fair hand was, On the green coverlet, whose perfect white Show'd like an April daisy on the grass, With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night. Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light, And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, Till they might open to adorn the day. Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath; O modest wantons! wanton modesty! Showing life's triumph in the map of death, And death's dim look in life's mortality. Each in her sleep themselves so beautify, As if between them twain there were no strife, But that life liv'd in death, and death in life. Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue, A pair of maiden worlds unconquered, She bows her head the new-sprung flower to smell, Comparing it to her Adonis' breath; And says within her bosom it shall dwell, Since he himself is reft from her by death: She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears. Poor flower! (quoth she) this was thy father's guise (Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire), For every little grief to wet his eyes, To wither in my breast as in his blood. Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast, Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right; Low in this hollow cradle take thy rest, My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night: There shall not be one minute of an hour, Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower. Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves, by whose swift aid Their mistress, mounted, through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself, and not be seen. SONNETS. TO HIS LOVE. 18. SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temper ate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date : A MADRIGAL. [From The Passionate Pilgrim.] Crabbed Age and Youth Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short, Age is weak and cold, O! my Love, my Love is young! O sweet shepherd, hie thee, For methinks thou stay'st too long. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 1552-1618. [BORN, 1552; executed, 1618. No early collected edition of his poems exists; such as were printed at all appeared for the most part in the Miscellanies of the time.] |