Is not less cared for after three days
By children, than the thing which lovers so
Blindly admire and with such worship woo;
Being had, enjoying it decays,

And thence,

What before pleased them all, takes but one sense,
And that so lamely, as it leaves behind
A kind of sorrowing dulness to the mind.

Ah! cannot we,

As well as cocks and lions, jocund be
After such pleasures? unless wise
Nature decreed (since each such act, they say,
Diminisheth the length of life a day)

This; as she would man should despise

The sport,

Because that other curse of being short,
And only for a minute made to be
Eager, desires to raise posterity.

Since so, my mind

Shall not desire what no man else can find;
I'll no more dote and run

To pursue things which had endamaged me,
And when I come where moving beauties be,

As men do, when the summer's sun

Grows great,

1

Though I admire their greatness, shun their heat ; Each place can afford shadows. If all fail, 'T is but applying worm-seed to the tail.

1 the summer sun, 1649, '54, '69.

A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW.1

1635.

STAND still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, Love, in love's philosophy.

These three hours that we have spent

Walking here, two shadows went

Along with us, which we ourselves produced;
But now the sun is just above our head,
We do those shadows tread,

And to brave clearness all things are
reduced;

So whilst our infant loves 2 did grow
Disguises did and shadows flow

From us and our cares: but now 't is not so.

That love hath not attained the high'st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see;
Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind

Others, these, which come behind,
Will work upon ourselves and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint and westwardly decline,
To me thou, falsely, thine,

And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.

1 Title simply "A Song," in the editions of 1635, '39. 2 love, 1669.

The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day,
But oh! love's day is short, if love decay,

Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his short minute, after noon, is night.

THE TOKEN.

1649.

SEND me some tokens, that my hope may live,
Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest;
Send me some honey, to make sweet my hive,
That in my passions I may hope the best.
I beg nor ribbon wrought with thine own hands
To knit our loves in the fantastic strain
Of new-touched youth; nor ring to show the stands
Of our affection, that, as that 's round and plain,
So should our loves meet in simplicity;

No, nor the corals which thy wrist infold,

Laced up together in congruity,

To show our thoughts should rest in the same hold;

No, nor thy picture, though most graciöus,

And most desired, 'cause 't is like thee 1 best; Nor witty lines, which are most copious

Within the writings which thou hast addrest; Send me nor this, nor that, t' increase my score; But swear thou think'st I love thee, and no more.

1 the, 1669.

ELEGIES.