To the Water Nymphs Drinking At the Fountain

Reach, with your whiter hands, to me
  Some crystal of the spring;
And I about the cup shall see
  Fresh lilies flourishing.

Or else, sweet nymphs, do you but this,
  To th’ glass your lips incline;
And I shall see by that one kiss
  The water turn’d to wine.

Published in Hesperides

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