Poem by James Shirley

Piping Peace

You virgins that did late despair
	To keep your wealth from cruel men,
Tie up in silk your careless hair:
	Soft peace is come again.

Now lovers’ eyes may gently shoot
	A flame that will not kill;
The drum was angry, but the lute
	Shall whisper what you will.

Sing lo, lo! for his sake
	That hath restored your drooping heads;
With choice of sweetest flowers make
	A garden where he treads;

Whilst we whole groves of laurel bring, 
	A pretty triumph for his brow,
Who is the Master of our spring 
	And all the bloom we owe.

1. Cease, Warring Thoughts
2. The Fair Felon
3. To the Painter Preparing to Draw M.M.H.
4. Sililoquy on Death
5. To a Lady upon a Looking-Glass Sent

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