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865. THE BODY.
The body is the soul's poor house or home,
Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.
Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.
866. TO SAPPHO.
Thou say'st thou lov'st me, Sappho; I say no;
But would to Love I could believe 'twas so!
Pardon my fears, sweet Sappho; I desire
That thou be righteous found, and I the liar.
But would to Love I could believe 'twas so!
Pardon my fears, sweet Sappho; I desire
That thou be righteous found, and I the liar.
867. OUT OF TIME, OUT OF TUNE.
We blame, nay, we despise her pains
That wets her garden when it rains:
But when the drought has dried the knot,
Then let her use the wat'ring-pot.
We pray for showers, at our need,
To drench, but not to drown our seed.
Knot, quaintly shaped flower-bed.
That wets her garden when it rains:
But when the drought has dried the knot,
Then let her use the wat'ring-pot.
We pray for showers, at our need,
To drench, but not to drown our seed.
Knot, quaintly shaped flower-bed.
868. TO HIS BOOK.
Take mine advice, and go not near
Those faces, sour as vinegar.
For these, and nobler numbers can
Ne'er please the supercilious man.
Those faces, sour as vinegar.
For these, and nobler numbers can
Ne'er please the supercilious man.
869. TO HIS HONOURED FRIEND, SIR THOMAS HEALE.
Stand by the magic of my powerful rhymes
'Gainst all the indignation of the times.
'Gainst all the indignation of the times.
