Ричард Лавлейс (Richard Lovelace)

The Rose

I.

Sweet serene skye-like Flower,
Haste to adorn her Bower:
From thy long clowdy bed,
Shoot forth thy damaske head.

II.

New-startled blush of Flora!
The griefe of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more;
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.

III.

Vermilion Ball that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven;
Love's Couches cover-led:
Haste, haste, to make her bed.

IV.

Dear Offspring of pleas'd Venus,
And Jollie, plumpe Silenus;
Haste, haste, to decke the Haire
Of th' only, sweetly Faire.

V.

See! Rosie is her Bower,
Her floore is all this Flower;
Her Bed a Rosie nest
By a Bed of Roses prest.

VI.

But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright Tresses?
Ah! I have found I feare;
Because her Cheekes are neere. 

Поддержать сайт