Of Cytherea's birds, that milk-white pair,
On yonder leafy myrtle-tree which groan,
And waken, with their kisses in the air,
Enamour'd zephyrs murmuring one by one,
If thou but sense hadst like Pygmalion's stone,
Or hadst not seen Medusa's snaky hair,
Love's lessons thou might'st learn; and learn, sweet fair,
To summer's heat ere that thy spring be grown.
And if those kissing lovers seem but cold,
Look how that elm this ivy doth embrace,
And binds, and clasps with many a wanton fold,
And courting sleep o'ershadows all the place;
Nay, seems to say, dear tree, we shall not part,
In sign whereof, lo! in each leaf a heart.