To His Mistress
by: Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674)
You say I love not, 'cause I do not play
Still with your curls, and kiss the time away.
You blame me too because I can't devise
Some sport to please those babies in your eyes;
By love's religion, I must here confess it,
The most I love when I least express it.
Small griefs find tongues; full casks are ever found
To give, if any, yet but little sound.
Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depths below.
So when love speechless is, she doth express
A depth in love, and that depth bottomless.
Now since my love is tongueless, know me such
Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much!
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