those crazy elizabethans

SONG:  TO CELIA                              


Drink to me only with thine eyes,
   And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
   And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
    Doth ask a drink divine:
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
    I  would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreathe,
    Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope,  that there
    It could not withered be.
But thou thereon did'st only breathe,
    And sent'st it back to me;
Since when it grows and smells,  I swear,
    Not of itself, but thee.


                    Ben Jonson









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