  MY lady has a casket cut In scarlet coral, crimson-red; Like Cupid’s bow, to keep it shut, Two pouting locks are tightenÈd, In cunning curvings chisellÈd. Some mighty wizard it did make, So strong that nothing can undo; And if you thence would treasure take, You press your lips the clasping to; The magic word’s “I love but you!” You’ll find a row of pearls within, As pure as scarce come from the sea, And set the rose and crimson in, Twinkling with sweetest symmetry,— I trow most beautiful to see! And eke the clasp ’s so cunning wrought, That as it opens, treble clear, There comes a music, glib befraught, Like silver lutes, that to the ear As sweet love-ditties do appear. And there within, as peach and rose, And pine and plum, most savoury choice, Elixirs sweet my Lady stows, To make the saddest heart rejoice, Or passionate the poet’s voice. A rich soul-philtre, that to sip I swear must be to drain it dry, And never take away your lip Till time has toll’d your time to die, Yet dying, love eternally. |
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