Ben Jonson (11 June 1572 – 6 August 1637 / London / England)
Drinke to me, onely, with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kisse but in the cup,
And Ile not looke for wine.
The thirst, that from the soule doth rise,
Doth aske a drinke divine:
But might I of Jove's Nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee, late, a rosie wreath,
Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered bee.
But thou thereon did'st onely breath,
And sent'st it back to mee:
Since when it growes, and smells, I sweare,
Not of it selfe, but thee.
Poet Other Poems
- A Celebration of Charis: I. His Excuse f...
- A Celebration of Charis: IV. Her Triumph
- A Farewell to the World
- A Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme
- A Hymn on the Nativity of My Saviour
- A Hymn to God the Father
- A Nymph’s Passion
- A Pangyre
- A Pindaric Ode
- A Sonnet, to the Noble Lady, the Lady Ma...
- An Elegy
- An Ode to Himself
- Begging Another
- Blaney's Last Directions
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.