THE TRUE AND THE FALSE. HOW much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live: The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfuméd tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly When summer's breath their maskéd buds discloses. But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: 1 THE WORLD'S WAY. IRED with all these, for restful death I cry,- And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill : -Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. LIFE'S AUTUMN. HAT time of year thou mayst in me behold Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by : This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH. O longer mourn for me when I am dead Give warning to the world that I am fled Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone. THE GARDEN OF LOVE. ROM you have I been absent in the spring, That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him. Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; |