Minor Poems of Michael Drayton

Name: Minor Poems of Michael Drayton
Author: Drayton, Michael

Drayton, Michael

English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700

Her Canopie Ile draw,
      With spangled Plumes bedight,
    No Mortall euer saw
      So rauishing a sight;                                           20
    That it the Gods might awe,
    And pow'rfully trans-pierce
    The Globie Vniuerse,
      Out-shooting eu'ry Light.

    My Lips Ile softly lay
      Vpon her heau'nly Cheeke,
    Dy'd like the dawning Day,
      As polish'd Iuorie sleeke:
    And in her Eare Ile say;
    O, thou bright Morning-Starre,                                    30
    'Tis I that come so farre,
      My Valentine to seeke.

    Each little Bird, this Tyde,
      Doth chuse her loued Pheere,
    Which constantly abide
      In Wedlock all the yeere,
    As Nature is their Guide:
    So may we two be true,
    This yeere, nor change for new,
      As Turtles coupled were.                                        40

    The Sparrow, Swan, the Doue,
      Though VENVS Birds they be,
    Yet are they not for Loue
      So absolute as we:
    For Reason vs doth moue;
    They but by billing woo:
    Then try what we can doo,
      To whom each sense is free.

    Which we haue more then they,
      By liuelyer Organs sway'd,                                      50
    Our Appetite each way
      More by our Sense obay'd:
    Our Passions to display,
    This Season vs doth fit;
    Then let vs follow it,
      As Nature vs doth lead.

    One Kisse in two let's breake,
      Confounded with the touch,
    But halfe words let vs speake,
      Our Lip's imploy'd so much,                                     60
    Vntill we both grow weake,
    With sweetnesse of thy breath;
    O smother me to death:
      Long let our Ioyes be such.

    Let's laugh at them that chuse
      Their Valentines by lot,
    To weare their Names that vse,
      Whom idly they haue got:
    Such poore choise we refuse,
    Saint VALENTINE befriend;                                         70
    We thus this Morne may spend,
      Else Muse, awake her not.


THE HEART

    If thus we needs must goe,
    What shall our one Heart doe,
    This One made of our Two?

    Madame, two Hearts we brake,
    And from them both did take
    The best, one Heart to make.

    Halfe this is of your Heart,
    Mine in the other part,
    Ioyn'd by our equall Art.

    Were it cymented, or sowne,                                       10
    By Shreds or Pieces knowne,
    We each might find our owne.

    But 'tis dissolu'd, and fix'd,
    And with such cunning mix'd,
    No diffrence that betwixt.

    But how shall we agree,
    By whom it kept shall be,
    Whether by you, or me?

    It cannot two Brests fill,
    One must be heartlesse still,                                     20
    Vntill the other will.

    It came to me one day,
    When I will'd it to say,
    With whether it would stay?

    It told me, in your Brest,
    Where it might hope to rest:
    For if it were my Ghest,

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Minor Poems of Michael Drayton

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