The Primrose, Being at Montgomery Castle, Upon the Hill, on Which It Is Situate

UPON this Primrose hill, Where, if heaven would distil A shower of rain, each several drop might go To his own primrose, and grow manna so; And where their form, and their infinity Make a terrestrial galaxy, As the small stars do in the sky; I walk to find a true love; and I see That 'tis not a mere woman, that is she, But must or more or less than woman be.

Yet know I not, which flower I wish; a six, or four; For should my true-love less than woman be, She were scarce anything; and then, should she Be more than woman, she would get above All thought of sex, and think to move My heart to study her, and not to love. Both these were monsters; since there must reside Falsehood in woman, I could more abide, She were by art, than nature falsified.

Live, primrose, then, and thrive With thy true number five; And, woman, whom this flower doth represent, With this mysterious number be content; Ten is the farthest number; if half ten Belongs to each woman, then Each woman may take half us men; Or—if this will not serve their turn—since all Numbers are odd, or even, and they fall First into five, women may take us all.