| lyric | 1. 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 llok for wine.
But might I of love’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
2. The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine,
But might I of Jove’s neetar sip,
I woulöd not change for thine.
3. I sent thee late a rosy wreath
not so much hon’ring thee
as giving it a hope that thee
il could not withared be.
But thou thereon did’st only breath
and smells, I swear, not of itself but thee.
4. But thou there-on didst only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me:
Since when, it grows and smells I swear,
Not of itself, but thee. |