Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
Go, lovely RoseEdmund Waller (16061687)
G
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.
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.
Of beauty from the light retired:
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!