Sunday Poem: Ben Jonson – To Celia

Ben Jonson. 1573–1637
  
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          5
  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   10
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,   15
  Not of itself but thee!
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