M 



I told him I 'd take no care, 



Till I did feel the smart. 

 And still did press the thorn so dear 



Till the thorn did pierce my heart. 



A posy of hyssop I '11 make. 



No other flower I '11 touch, 

 That all the world may plainly see 



I love one flower too much. 



My garden is now run wild ; 



When I shall plant anew, 

 My bed, that once was filled with thyme, 



Is now o'errun with rue. 



ANON. 



TO EMILIA VIVIANI 



ADONNA, wherefore hast thou sent to me 

 Sweet-basil and mignonette, 

 Embleming love and health, which never yet 

 In the same wreath might be ? 



Alas, and they are wet ! 

 Is it with thy kisses or thy tears ? 

 For never rain or dew 

 Such fragrance drew 

 From plant or flower — the very doubt endears 



My sadness ever new. 

 The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed for thee. 

 Send the stars light, but send not love to me. 



In whom love ever made 

 Health like a heap of embers soon to fade. 



SHELLEY. 

 25 



