Here you will find the Poem The Pink of poet Henry King
Fair one, you did on me bestow Comparisons too sweet to ow; And but I found them sent from you I durst not think they could be true. But 'tis your uncontrolled power Goddess-like to produce a flower, And by your breath, without more seed, Make that a Pink which was a Weed. Because I would be loth to miss So sweet a Metamorphosis, Upon what stalk soere I grow Disdain not you sometimes to blow And cherish by your Virgin eye What in your frown would droop and die: So shall my thankful leaf repay Perfumed wishes every day: And o're your fortune breathe a spell Which may his obligation tell, Who though he nought but air can give Must ever your (Sweet) creature live.
