Ben Jonson: To Celia
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To Celia

1573-1637


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 wreath,
         Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there
         It could not wither'd be;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
         And sent'st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
         Not of itself but thee!


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DayPoems Poem No. 186



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