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Poem by 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. Richard Lovelace Richard Lovelace's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1622 Views |
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