Spring with the Larke, most comely Bride, and meet
Your eager Bridegroome with auspitious feet.
The Morn's farre spent; and the immortall Sunne
Corrols his cheeke, to see those Rites not done.
Fie, Lovely maid! Indeed you are too slow,
When to the Temple Love sho'd runne, not go.
Dispatch your dressing then; and quickly wed:
Then feast, and coy't a little; then to bed.
This day is Loves day; and this busie night
Is yours, in which you challeng'd are to fight
With such an arm'd, but such an easie Foe,
As will if you yeeld, lye down conquer'd too.

True rev'rence is (as Cassiodore doth prove)
The feare of God, commixt with cleanly love.

Love he that will; it best likes me,
To have my neck from Loves yoke free.

I do not love, nor can it be
Love will in vain spend shafts on me:
I did this God-head once defie;
Since which I freeze, but cannot frie.
Yet out alas! the deaths the same,
Kil'd by a frost or by a flame.

Unless with my Amanda blest,
In vain I twine the woodbine bower;
Unless to deck her sweeter breast,
In vain I rear the breathing flower.

Awaken'd by the genial year,
In vain the birds around me sing;
In vain the freshening fields appear; —
Without my love there is no Spring.

Unless with my Amanda blest,
In vain I twine the woodbine bower;
Unless to deck her sweeter breast,
In vain I rear the breathing flower.

Awaken'd by the genial year,
In vain the birds around me sing;
In vain the freshening fields appear; —

WHO WAS BORN ON VALENTINE'S DAY .

Thine is the gentle day of love,
When youths and virgins try their fate;
When, deep retiring to the grove,
Each feathered songster weds his mate.

With tempered beams the skies are bright,
Earth decks in smiles her pleasing face;
Such is the day that gave thee light,
And speaks as such thy every grace.

WHO WAS BORN ON VALENTINE'S DAY .

Thine is the gentle day of love,

When ere my heart, Love's warmth, but entertaines,
O Frost! O Snow! O Haile forbid the Banes.
One drop now deads a spark; but if the same
Once gets a force, Floods cannot quench the flame.
Rather then love, let me be ever lost;
Or let me 'gender with eternall frost.

How Love came in, I do not know,
Whether by th'eye, or eare, or no:
Or whether with the soule it came
(At first) infused with the same:
Whether in part 'tis here or there,
Or, like the soule, whole every where:
This troubles me: but I as well
As any other, this can tell;
That when from hence she does depart,
The out-let then is from the heart.

Mutely the mole toils on;
The worm in silk cocoon
Stealthy as spider spins,
As glides the moon.
But listen where envy peers beneath half-closed lid;
Where peeping vanity lurks; where pride lies hid;
And peace beyond telling share with the light-stilled eye,
When only the image of the loved one's nigh.

Pollie is a simpleton;
" Look! " she cries, " that lovely swan! "
And, even before her transports cease,
Adds, " But I do love geese. "

When a lark wings up the sky,
She'll sit with lips ajar, then sigh —
For rapture; and the rapture o'er,
Whisper, " What's music for? "

Every lesson I allot,
As soon as learned is clean forgot.
" L-O-V ...? " I prompt. And she
Smiles, but I catch no " E. "

It seems in her round head you come