用我的眼睛为你祝酒
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I&9ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove&9s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent&9st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.