0.014An Humorous Dayʼs Mirth

4Yet hath the morning sprinkled thrʼout the clouds

1.25But half her tincture, and the soil of night

1.3Sticks still 6upon the bosom of the air.

1.4Yet sleep doth rest my 7love for natureʼs debt,

1.5And through her window and this 8dim twilight

1.6Her maid, nor any waking I can see.

1.7This 9is the holy green, my wifeʼs close walk,

1.8— To which not any 10but herself alone

1.9Hath any key, only that I have 11clapped

1.10Her key in wax and made this counterfeit —

1.11To the 12which I steal access

1.12To work this rare and politic device.

1.1313Fair is my wife, and young and delicate,

1.14Although too religious 14in the purist sort;

1.15But pure religion being but 15mental stuff,

1.16And sense, indeed, all for itself,

1.17Is to be doubted; 16that, when an object comes

1.18Fit to her humour, she will 17intercept

1.19Religious letters sent unto her mind,

1.20And yield 18unto the motion of her blood.

1.21Here have I brought, then, 19two rich agates for her,

1.22Graven with two posies of mine own 20devising,

1.23For poets Iʼll not trust, nor friends, nor any.

1.24She 21longs to have a child, which yet, alas,

1.25I cannot get, yet long 22as much as she,

1.26And not to make her desperate, thus I write

1.2723In this fair jewel, though it simple be,

1.28Yet ʼtis mine own, 24that meaneth well enough:

1.3326I hope ʼtis plain and knowing. In this other, that I write:

1.36I hope ʼtis pretty and pathetical.

1.3729Well, even here

1.38Lie both together till my love arise

1.39And let her 30think you fall out of the skies.

1.40I will to bed again.