Song To Cecilia
By Ben Jonson (1572-1637)
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 honoring
thee,
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But
thou thereon did'st only breathe,
And sent'st it back to me;
Since when
it grows and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.
