Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/336

 EDMUND WALLER

1606-1687

304. On a Girdle

That which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done.

It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move.

A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair! Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round!

305. Go, lovely Rose

Go, lovely Rose— Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, 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, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.

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.