live with me, and be my love,
we will some new pleasures prove
golden sands, and crystal brooks,
silken lines, and silver hooks.
will the river whispering run
by thy eyes, more than the sun.
there the'enamoured fish will stay,
themselves they may betray.
thou wilt swim in that live bath,
fish, which every channel hath,
amorously to thee swim,
to catch thee, than thou him.
thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
sun, or moon, thou darkenest both,
if myself have leave to see,
need not their light, having thee.
others freeze with angling reeds,
cut their legs, with shells and weeds,
treacherously poor fish beset,
strangling snare, or windowy net:
coarse bold hands, from slimy nest
bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
curious traitors, sleavesilk flies
poor fishes' wandering eyes.
thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
thou thyself art thine own bait,
fish, that is not catched thereby,
is wiser far than I.