ROBERT HERRICK

She sees no tears, Or any tone Of thy deep groan She hears:

Nor does she mind Or think on 't now That ever thou Wast kind ;

But changed above, She likes not there, As she did here, Thy love.

Forbear therefore, And lull asleep Thy woes, and weep No more.

270. To Meadows

have been fresh and green, Ye have been lill'd with flowers, And ye the walks have been

Where maids have spent their hours.

You have beheld how they With wicker arks did come

To kiss and bear away

The richer cov/slips home.

You've heard them sweetly sing, And seen them in a round :

Each virgin like a spring,

With honeysuckles crown'd.

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