* * * * *
If all the world and Love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pleasures might my passion move,
To live with thee, and be my love.
But fading flowers in every field,
To winter floods their treasures yield;
A honey'd tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
SIR W. RALEIGH.--_Answer to Marlowe's "Come Live," &c_.
* * * * *
Passions are likened best to floods and streams;
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb,
So, when affections yield discourse, it seems
The bottom is but shallow whence they come:
They that are rich in words must needs discover
They are but poor in that which makes a lover.