If thy soul, Herrick, dwelt with me, <br />This is what my songs would be: <br />Hints of our sea-breezes, blent <br />With odors from the Orient; <br />Indian vessels deep with spice; <br />Star-showers from the Norland ice; <br />Wine-red jewels that seem to hold <br />Fire, but only burn with cold; <br />Antique goblets, strangely wrought, <br />Filled with the wine of happy thought, <br />Bridal measure, vain regrets, <br />Laburnum buds and violets; <br />Hopeful as the break of day; <br />Clear as crystal; new as May; <br />Musical as brooks that run <br />O'er yellow shallows in the sun; <br />Soft as the satin fringe that shades <br />The eyelids of thy Devon maids; <br />Brief as thy lyrics, Herrick, are, <br />And polished as the bosom of a star.<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hesperides/
