Classic Poetry


TO THE WATER-NYMPHS DRINKING AT THEFOUNTAIN

by Robert Herrick


Reach with your whiter hands to me
Some crystal of the spring;
And I about the cup shall see
Fresh lilies flourishing.

Or else, sweet nymphs, do you but this--
To th' glass your lips incline;
And I shall see by that one kiss
The water turn'd to wine.



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