A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

187. THE SHOWER OF BLOSSOMS

     Love in a shower of blossoms came
     Down, and half drown'd me with the same;
     The blooms that fell were white and red;
     But with such sweets commingled,
     As whether (this) I cannot tell,
     My sight was pleased more, or my smell;
     But true it was, as I roll'd there,
     Without a thought of hurt or fear,
     Love turn'd himself into a bee,
     And with his javelin wounded me;—-
     From which mishap this use I make;
     Where most sweets are, there lies a snake;
     Kisses and favours are sweet things;
     But those have thorns, and these have stings.