| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Richard Crashaw. 1613?–1649 |
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| 336. Wishes to His Supposed Mistress |
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| WHOE'ER she be— | |
| That not impossible She | |
| That shall command my heart and me: | |
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| Where'er she lie, | |
| Lock'd up from mortal eye | 5 |
| In shady leaves of destiny: | |
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| Till that ripe birth | |
| Of studied Fate stand forth, | |
| And teach her fair steps to our earth: | |
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| Till that divine | 10 |
| Idea take a shrine | |
| Of crystal flesh, through which to shine: | |
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| Meet you her, my Wishes, | |
| Bespeak her to my blisses, | |
| And be ye call'd my absent kisses. | 15 |
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| I wish her Beauty, | |
| That owes not all its duty | |
| To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie: | |
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| Something more than | |
| Taffata or tissue can, | 20 |
| Or rampant feather, or rich fan. | |
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| A Face, that 's best | |
| By its own beauty drest, | |
| And can alone commend the rest. | |
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| A Face, made up | 25 |
| Out of no other shop | |
| Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. | |
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| A Cheek, where youth | |
| And blood, with pen of truth, | |
| Write what the reader sweetly ru'th. | 30 |
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| A Cheek, where grows | |
| More than a morning rose, | |
| Which to no box his being owes. | |
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| Lips, where all day | |
| A lover's kiss may play, | 35 |
| Yet carry nothing thence away. | |
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| Looks, that oppress | |
| Their richest tires, but dress | |
| And clothe their simplest nakedness. | |
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| Eyes, that displace | 40 |
| The neighbour diamond, and outface | |
| That sunshine by their own sweet grace. | |
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| Tresses, that wear | |
| Jewels but to declare | |
| How much themselves more precious are: | 45 |
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| Whose native ray | |
| Can tame the wanton day | |
| Of gems that in their bright shades play. | |
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| Each ruby there, | |
| Or pearl that dare appear, | 50 |
| Be its own blush, be its own tear. | |
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| A well-tamed Heart, | |
| For whose more noble smart | |
| Love may be long choosing a dart. | |
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| Eyes, that bestow | 55 |
| Full quivers on love's bow, | |
| Yet pay less arrows than they owe. | |
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| Smiles, that can warm | |
| The blood, yet teach a charm, | |
| That chastity shall take no harm. | 60 |
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| Blushes, that bin | |
| The burnish of no sin, | |
| Nor flames of aught too hot within. | |
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| Joys, that confess | |
| Virtue their mistress, | 65 |
| And have no other head to dress. | |
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| Fears, fond and slight | |
| As the coy bride's, when night | |
| First does the longing lover right. | |
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| Days, that need borrow | 70 |
| No part of their good-morrow | |
| From a fore-spent night of sorrow. | |
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| Days, that in spite | |
| Of darkness, by the light | |
| Of a clear mind, are day all night. | 75 |
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| Nights, sweet as they, | |
| Made short by lovers' play, | |
| Yet long by th' absence of the day. | |
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| Life, that dares send | |
| A challenge to his end, | 80 |
| And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend!' | |
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| Sydneian showers | |
| Of sweet discourse, whose powers | |
| Can crown old Winter's head with flowers. | |
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| Soft silken hours, | 85 |
| Open suns, shady bowers; | |
| 'Bove all, nothing within that lowers. | |
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| Whate'er delight | |
| Can make Day's forehead bright, | |
| Or give down to the wings of Night. | 90 |
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| I wish her store | |
| Of worth may leave her poor | |
| Of wishes; and I wish—no more. | |
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| Now, if Time knows | |
| That Her, whose radiant brows | 95 |
| Weave them a garland of my vows; | |
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| Her, whose just bays | |
| My future hopes can raise, | |
| A trophy to her present praise; | |
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| Her, that dares be | 100 |
| What these lines wish to see; | |
| I seek no further, it is She. | |
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| 'Tis She, and here, | |
| Lo! I unclothe and clear | |
| My Wishes' cloudy character. | 105 |
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| May she enjoy it | |
| Whose merit dare apply it, | |
| But modesty dares still deny it! | |
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| Such worth as this is | |
| Shall fix my flying Wishes, | 110 |
| And determine them to kisses. | |
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| Let her full glory, | |
| My fancies, fly before ye; | |
| Be ye my fictions—but her story. | |
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