To a River

SIth She will not that I
She to the World my Joy,
Thou who oft mine annoy
Hast heard deare Floud, tell Thetis if thou can
That not a happier Man
Doth breathe beneath the Skie.
More sweet, more white, more faire,
Lips, Hands, and Amber Haire,
Tell none did ever touch,
A smaller daintier Waste
Tell never was embrac't
But peace, since she forbids thee tell too much.