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Come, my Celia, let us prove
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever;
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Suns that set may rise again;
But if once we lose this light,
'Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys?
Fame and rumor are but toys.
Cannot we delude the eyes
Of a few poor household spies,
Or his easier ears beguile,
So removed by our wile?
'Tis no sin love's fruit to steal;
But the sweet theft to reveal.
To be taken, to be seen,
These have crimes accounted been.
Benjamin Jonson
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Read poems about / on: light, night, time, love, joy, lost, rose
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Comments about this poem (Come, My Celia
by
Benjamin Jonson
) |
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Benjamin Jonson
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Jack Williams
(10/11/2009 6:54:00 PM) |
Naughty but nice, especially for the Sixteenth Century.
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