But we're deceived all : As Heaven's other spangles do: To shine in things so precious. Upwards thou dost weep; Heaven's bosom drinks the gentle stream. Thine crawls above and is the cream. Heaven, of such fair floods as this, Heaven the crystal ocean is. Every morn from hence, A brisk cherub something sips, Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips; Then to his music and his song Tastes of this breakfast all day long. When some new bright guest Angels with their bottles come; The dew no more will weep, Nuzzled in the lily's neck. Much rather would it tremble here, And leave them both to be thy tear. Not the soft gold which As the drops distill'd from thee. When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest majesty, For she is a queen, Then is she drest by none but thee. Then, and only then, she wears Her richest pearls, I mean thy tears. Not in the evening's eyes, Sits Sorrow with a face so fair. Nowhere but here did ever meet Sadness, all the while She sits in such a throne as this, Nor believe she sadness is: Gladness itself would be more glad Junels решево sorrow sorrow There is no need at all, So coyly should let fall His med'cinable tears; for now Nature hath learn'd t' extract a dew, More sovereign and sweet from you. Yet let the poor drops weep, Sad that they are vanquish'd so; Golden though he be, Golden Tagus murmurs; though Richer far does he esteem Thy silver, than his golden stream. Well does the May that lies Smiling in thy cheeks, confess The April in thine eyes; Mutual sweetness they express. No April e'er lent softer showers, Nor May returned fairer flowers. Thus dost thou melt the year balsam balsam Each minute waiteth here, time Takes his tear and gets him gone; By thine eye's tinct ennobled thus, Time lays him up: he's precious. Time, as by thee he passes, By them his steps he rectifies. The sands he used no longer please, Does thy song lull the air? time time Thy tear's just cadence still keeps time. time for all. Time Let night or day do what they will, Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still. Not, so long she lived, Will thy tomb report of thee; But, so long she grieved, Thus must we date thy memory. Others by days, by months, by years, Measure their ages, thou by tears. time Say, watery brothers," Ye simpering sons of those fair eyes What hath our world that can entice You to be born? what is't can borrow You from her eyes swoll'n wombs of sorrow? Whither away so fast? O whither? for the sluttish earth Your sweetness cannot taste, Nor does the dust deserve your birth. Whither haste ye then? O, say Why ye trip so fast away? We go not to seek The darlings of Aurora's bed, The rose's modest cheek, Nor the violet's humble head. No such thing; we go to meet 2+ A 24 A 20 A THE TEAR. HAT bright soft thing is this, A moist spark it is, A watery diamond; from whence The very term, I think, was found diamond |