Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss within the cup And Ill not ask for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Joves nectar sip, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sentst it back to me, Since when it grows and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee! https://youtube/watch?v=kUZSLWoCRsE
Posted on: Mon, 08 Dec 2014 04:11:48 +0000
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