Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn; Heaven her bright stars through earth's dim globe shall move; Fire heat shall lose, and frosts of flames be born; Air, made to shine, as black as hell shall prove: Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view, Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you. John Dowland. FAREWELL, MY JOY. Farewell! my joy! Adieu! my love and pleasure! To sport and toy We have no longer leisure. Fa la la! Farewell! adieu! Until our next consorting! Sweet love, be true! And thus we end our sporting. Fa la la! Thomas Weelkes. THE LARK NOW LEAVES HIS WAT'RY NEST. The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing, shakes his dewy wings, He takes your window for the east, And to implore your light, he sings; Awake, awake, the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes; But still the lover wonders what they are, Who look for day before his mistress wakes. Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn, Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn. Sir William Davenant. GO, LOVELY ROSE. Go, lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, How small a part of time they share Who are so wondrous sweet and fair! Edmund Waller. HIS MISTRESS. I have a mistress, for perfections rare In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair. Like tapers on the altar shine her eyes; Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice. And wheresoe'er my fancy would begin, Still her perfection lets religion in. We sit and talk, and kiss away the hours As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers. I touch her, like my beads, with devout care, And come unto my courtship as my prayer. Thomas Randolph. CHLORIS. Amyntas, go! Thou art undone, Thy faithful heart is crossed by fate; That love is better not begun, Where love is come to love too late. Yet who that saw fair Chloris weep Such sacred dew, with such pure grace, Durst think them feigned tears, or seek For treason in an angel's face. Henry Vaughan. LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.