Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. II. The Seventeenth Century: Ben Jonson to Dryden
William Habington (16051654)To Castara. Of True Delight
W
That cunningly divides the air?
Why doth the palate buy the choice
Delights o’ th’ sea, to enrich her fare?
The echo ’s lost even with the breath;
And when the sewer takes away,
I ’m left with no more taste than death.
To procreate new loves with thine;
Satiety makes sense despise
What superstition thought divine.
As we conceive, things are not such;
The glowworm is as warm as bright,
Till the deceitful flame we touch.
And bought repentance with a kiss;
I find the malice of my dust,
That told me hell contained a bliss.
Lost in the fold of lovers’ wreaths;
The violet enchants the scent,
When early in the spring she breathes.
Shrink from the pillow where it grows;
Or an intruding cold hath power
To scorn the perfume of the rose.
Smooth beauty, where brows wrinkled are,
And makes the cozen’d fancy glow;
Chaste virtue ’s only true and fair.