To Anthea, Who May Command Him Anything

Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be;
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free,
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
To honor thy decrees;
Or bid it languish quite away,
And 't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see;
And, having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree;
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me;
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.

Collection: 
1611

More from Poet

  • Azt álmodtam éjjel, hogy testem átváltozott: szőlőtő lettem, rügyet neveltem, lombot, szárat, s beleptem velük Lúciámat, indáimmal combját és pöttöm lábát is átöleltem többször, majd sok mohó, de lágy kacsommal hátulját is magához fontam, koszorúnak sok zöldessárga fürtöt aggattam homlokára, míg...

  • Shapcot! to thee the Fairy State I with discretion dedicate: Because thou prizest things that are Curious and unfamiliar, Take first the feast; these dishes gone, We’ll see the Fairy-court anon. A little mushroom-table spread, After short prayers, they set on bread, A moon-parched grain of...

  • A Sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness; A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction; An erring lace, which here and there Inthralls the crimson stomacher; A cuff neglectful, and thereby Ribbons to flow confusedly; A winning wave, deserving note, In the...

  • AH Ben! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun; Where we such clusters had As made us nobly wild, not mad; And yet each verse of thine Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine...

  • Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile, And go at last. What! were ye born to be An hour or half’s delight, And so to bid good-night? ’T is pity Nature brought ye...