D rink to me o nly w ith thine e yes
And I wil l pl edge wi th mi ne;
O r leave a k iss within the c up
And I 'll n ot a sk f or wi ne.
The t hirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth c rave a d rink d ivine;
B ut might I o f Jove's n ectar s up
I w ould n ot c hange f or th ine.
I sent thee l ate a r osy wr eath
N ot so m uch h onorin g the e
A s giving i t a h ope that t here
I t could n ot w ithere d be;
But t hou thereon didst only breathe
And s ent'st it b ack to m e
S ince when it g rows and s mells I s wear
N ot of i tsel f bu t the e.