A Meditation for His Mistress

You are a tulip seen to-day,

But, dearest, of so short a stay

That where you grew scarce man can say.

You are a lovely July-flower,

Yet one rude wind or ruffling shower

Will force you hence, and in an hour.

You are a sparkling rose i' th' bud,

Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood

Can show where you or grew or stood.

You are a full-spread, fair-set vine,

And can with tendrils love entwine,

Yet dried ere you distil your wine.

You are like balm encloséd well

In amber or some crystal shell,

Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell.

You are a dainty violet,

Yet wither'd ere you can be set

Within the virgin's coronet.