Richard Lovelace

Here you will find the Poem To Lucasta. The Rose. of poet Richard Lovelace

To Lucasta. The Rose.

Sweet serene skye-like flower,
Haste to adorn her bower;
 From thy long clowdy bed
 Shoot forth thy damaske head.

New-startled blush of FLORA!
The griefe of pale AURORA,
 Who will contest no more,
 Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.

Vermilion ball, that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven;
 Loves couches cover-led,
 Haste, haste, to make her bed.

Dear offspring of pleas'd VENUS,
And jollie plumpe SILENUS;
 Haste, haste, to decke the haire,
 Of th' only sweetly faire.

See! rosie is her bower,
Her floore is all this flower;
 Her bed a rosie nest
 By a bed of roses prest.

But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright tresses?
 Ah! I have found, I feare;
 Because her cheekes are neere.