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Love Poems

Speaking from the heart, words and gifts of love.

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
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 withered be.
But thou thereon did'st only breath,
And sent'st it back to me:
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.

Ben Jonson (1573-1637)