To Celia

by Ben Jonson


Drink to me only with thine eyes,
    And I will pledge with mine ;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
    And Iíll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
    Doth ask a drink divine ;
But might I of Joveís nectar sup,
    I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
    Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there
    It could not withered be ;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
    And sentíst it back to me ;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
    Not of itself but thee !
Ben Jonson | Classic Poems

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