Ode. To Lucasta. 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.