A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick






96. UPON JULIA'S VOICE

     When I thy singing next shall hear,
     I'll wish I might turn all to ear,
     To drink-in notes and numbers, such
     As blessed souls can't hear too much
     Then melted down, there let me lie
     Entranced, and lost confusedly;
     And by thy music strucken mute,
     Die, and be turn'd into a Lute.

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