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A Meditation for his Mistresse.
1.
YOu are a Tulip seen to day,
But (Dearest) of so short a stay;
That where you grew, scarce man can say.
2.
You are a lovely July-flower,
Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower,
Will force you hence, (and in an houre.)
3.
You are a sparkling Rose i'th'bud,
Yet lost, ere that chast flesh and blood
Can shew where you or grew, or stood.
4.
You are a full-spread faire-set Vine,
And can with Tendrills love intwine,
Yet dry'd, ere you distill your Wine.
5.
You are like Balme inclosed (well)
In Amber, or some Chrystall shell,
Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell.
6.
You are a dainty Violet,
Yet wither'd, ere you can be set
Within the Virgins Coronet.
7.
You are the Queen all flowers among,
But die you must (faire Maid) ere long,
As He, the maker of this Song.