| => 回到課程範圍 |
|
| Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss within the cup, And I’ll not ask for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, Doth ask a drink divine, But might I of love’s nectar sip, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much hon’ring thee, As giving it a hope that there, It could not withered be; But thou thereon did’st only breathe, And sent’st it back to me, Since when it grows and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee. |