| Drink to me, only with thine eyes, | |
| And I will pledge with mine ; | |
| Or leave a kiss but in the cup, | |
| And I'll not look for wine. | |
| The thirst, that from the soul doth rise, | 5 |
| Doth ask a drink divine : | |
| But might I of Jove's nectar sup, | |
| I would not change for thine. | |
| I sent thee late a rosy wreath, | |
| Not so much honoring thee, | 10 |
| As giving it a hope, that there | |
| It could not wither'd be. | |
| But thou thereon didst only breathe, | |
| And sent'st it back to me : | |
| Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, | 15 |
| Not of itself, but thee. |