Drink to me only with thine eyes, <br />And I will pledge with mine; <br />Or leave a kiss but in the cup, <br />And I'll not look for wine. <br /> <br />The thirst that from the soul doth rise <br />Doth ask a drink divine; <br />But might I of Jove's nectar sup, <br />I would not change for thine. <br /> <br />I sent thee late a rosy wreath, <br />Not so much honouring thee <br />As giving it a hope, that there <br />It could not withered be. <br /> <br />But thou thereon didst only breathe, <br />And sent'st it back to me; <br />Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, <br />Not of itself, but thee.<br /><br />Ben Jonson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-to-celia-ii-2/
