(SIR WALTER RALEIGH)

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy Love.

But could youth last, and love still breed, Had joys no date, nor age no need, Then these delights my mind might move To live with thee and be thy Love.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 123. Silvia

'HO is Silvia? What is she? That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she ;

The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling ; She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring.

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