His Tears To Thamesis.

I send, I send here my supremest kiss     To thee, my silver-footed Thamesis.     No more shall I reiterate thy Strand,     Whereon so many stately structures stand:     Nor in the summer's sweeter evenings go     To bathe in thee, as thousand others do;     No more shall I along thy crystal glide     In barge with boughs and rushes beautifi'd,     With soft-smooth virgins for our chaste disport,     To Richmond, Kingston, and to Hampton Court.     Never again shall I with finny oar     Put from, or draw unto the faithful shore:     And landing here, or safely landing there,     Make way to my beloved Westminster,     Or to the golden Cheapside, where the earth     Of Julia Herrick gave to me my birth.     May all clean nymphs and curious water-dames     With swan-like state float up and down thy streams:     No drought upon thy wanton waters fall     To make them lean and languishing at all.     No ruffling winds come hither to disease     Thy pure and silver-wristed Naiades.     Keep up your state, ye streams; and as ye spring,     Never make sick your banks by surfeiting.     Grow young with tides, and though I see ye never,     Receive this vow, so fare ye well for ever.