Song: To Celia
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.
— Ben Jonson
Note: Ben Jonson was born on June 11, 1572 – birthday, too, of other stars from Vince Lombardi and Joe Montana to Barnabe Googe and William Styron – which makes him a prototypical workaholic manic-depressive Gemini poet who refused to limit himself to one genre and who fathered the "tribe of Ben" — the Cavalier poets who were, in effect, the children of his right hand, Benjamin meaning "child of my right hand" in Hebrew.