To Celia

Drink to me only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine
But might I of Jove's nectar sup
I would not change for thine

I sent thee late a rosy wreath
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be
But thou thereon didst only breathe
And sent'st it back to me
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear
Not of itself, but thee



Credits
Writer(s): Ben Jonson, Donkerbot Donkerbot
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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