Robert Herrick (1591–1674)

HER eyes the glow-worm lend thee,

The shooting stars attend thee;

And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow

Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o’th’-wisp mislight thee,

Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;

But on, on thy way

Not making a stay,

Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber:

What though the moon does slumber?

The stars of the night

Will lend thee their light

Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,

Thus, thus to come unto me;

And when I shall meet

Thy silvr’y feet

My soul I’ll pour into thee.