Say, Love,

if ever Thou didst Find

"Say, Love, if ever thou didst find A woman with a constant mind."

"None but one."

"And what should that rare mirror be?" "Some goddess or some queen is She." She, She, She, and only She,

She only queen of love and beauty.

"But could thy fiery poisoned dart At no time touch her spotless heart, Nor come near?"

"She is not subject to Love's bow: Her eye commands, her heart saith 'No'." No, no, no, and only No,

One No another still doth follow.

"How might I that fair wonder know That mocks desire with endless 'No "?" "See the moon

That ever in one change doth grow,

Yet still the same: and She is so.
So, so, so, and only So!

From heaven her virtues she doth borrow.

"To her, then, yield thy shafts and bow That can command affections so."

"Love is free:

So are her thoughts that vanquish thee. There is no queen of Love but She." She, She, She, and only She,

She only queen of love and beauty.

When Love on
Time and Measure
Makes his Ground

When love on time and measure makes his ground,

Time that must end, though love can never die,

'Tis love betwixt a shadow and a sound, A love not in the heart but in the eye; A love that ebbs and flows, now up, now down,

A morning's favour and an evening's frown.

Sweet looks show love, yet they are but as beams;

Fair words seem true, yet they are but as wind;

Eyes shed their tears, yet are but outward streams;

Sighs paint a shadow in the falsest mind.

Looks, words, tears, sighs show love when love they leave;

False hearts can weep, sigh, swear, and

yet deceive.

(B 325)

Who's there
Within?

Open the door! Who's there within? The fairest of thy mother's kin,

O come, come, come abroad
And hear the shrill birds sing,

The air with tunes that load!
It is too soon to go to rest,
The sun not midway yet to west:
The day doth miss thee

And will not part until it kiss thee.”

"Were I as fair as you pretend,
Yet to an unknown, seld-seen friend
I dare not ope the door:

To hear the sweet birds sing
Oft proves a dangerous thing.
The sun may run his wonted race
And yet not gaze on my poor face;

The day may miss me:

Therefore depart, you shall not kiss me.

So saith my Fair and Beautiful

Lycoris

So saith my fair and beautiful Lycoris, When now and then she talketh

With me of Love:

"Love is a sprite that walketh,
That soars and flies,

And none alive can hold him,
Nor touch him, nor behold him."
Yet when her eye she turneth,
I spy where he sojourneth:
In her eyes there he flies,
But none can catch him

Till from her lips he fetch him.