A Prayer To The Wind

Go thou gentle whispering wind,

Bear this sigh; and if thou find

Where my cruel fair doth rest,

Cast it in her snowy breast,

So, enflam'd by my desire,

It may set her heart a-fire.

Those sweet kisses thou shalt gain,

Will reward thee for thy pain:

Boldly light upon her lip,

There suck odours, and thence skip

To her bosom; lastly fall

Down, and wander over all:

Range about those ivory hills,

From whose every part distills

Amber dew; there spices grow,

There pure streams of nectar flow;

There perfume thyself, and bring

All those sweets upon thy wing:

As thou return'st, change by thy power,

Every weed into a flower;

Turn each thistle to a vine,

Make the bramble eglantine.

For so rich a booty made,

Do but this, and I am paid.

Thou canst with thy powerful blast,

Heat apace, and cool as fast:

Thou canst kindle hidden flame,

And again destroy the same;

Then for pity, either stir

Up the fire of love in her,

That alike both flames may shine,

Or else quite extinguish mine.