|
| The Primrose. |
|
| Vpon this Primrose hill, |
| Where, if Heav'n would distill |
| A shoure of raine, each severall drop might goe |
| To his owne primrose, and grow Manna so; |
| And where their forme, and their infinitie |
| Make a terrestriall Galaxie, |
| As the small starres doe in the skie: |
| I walke to finde a true Love; and I see |
| That 'tis not a mere woman, that is shee, |
| But must, or more, or lesse then woman bee. |
|
| Yet know I not, which flower |
| I wish; a sixe, or foure; |
| For should my true-Love lesse then woman bee, |
| She were scarce any thing; and then, should she |
| Be more then woman, shee would get above |
| All thought of sexe, and thinke to move |
| My heart to study her, and not to love; |
| Both these were monsters; Since there must reside |
| Falshood in woman, I could more abide, |
| She were by art, then Nature falsify'd. |
|
| Live Primrose then, and thrive |
| With thy true number five; |
| And women, whom this flower doth represent, |
| With this mysterious number be content;
|
[CW: Ten] |