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 Jove'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. *repeat first verse
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