Thou seest this bending stalk so weak The doubts and fears that lovers feel." [Burns' alteration is now printed for the first time.] IT IS NOT BEAUTY I DEMAND. THOMAS CAREW. It is not beauty I demand, A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Nor the snow's daughter a white hand, Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair. Tell me not of your starry eyes, A bloomy pair of vermil cheeks, Than summer winds a-wooing flowers. Give me instead of beauty's bust, Yet never linked with error find. One in whose gentle bosom I Could pour my secret heart of woes, My earthly comforter, whose love That when my spirit won above, ON A GIRDLE. EDMUND WALLER. Born 1605-Died 1687. That which her slender waist confined, It was my heav'n's extremest sphere, A narrow compass and yet there GO LOVELY ROSE. EDMUND WALLER. Go, lovely Rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, In deserts, where no men abide, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, How small a part of time they share [The following verse was added by Kirke White in a copy of Waller's Poems: Yet though thou fade From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise; And teach the maid That goodness time's rude hand defies That virtue lives when beanty dies.] TO CHLORIS. EDMUND WALLER. Chloris! farewell; I now must go; I shall prove blind and lose my way. Fame of thy beauty and thy youth, Among the rest, me hither brought : Finding this fame fall short of truth, Made me stay longer than I thought. For I'm engaged by word and oath But what assurance can I take, For some more worthy lover's sake For thou may'st say, 'twas not thy fault That thou didst thus inconstant prove, Being by my example taught To break thy oath to mend thy love. No, Chloris! no: I will return, Then shall my love this doubt displace, WHILE I LISTEN TO THY VOICE. EDMUND WALLER. While I listen to thy voice, That powerful noise Calls my flitting soul away. Oh! suppress that magic sound, Peace, Chloris, peace! or singing die, To heaven may go; Of what the blessed do above, Is that they sing and that they love. |