Had we but world enough, and time,
　　This coyness, Lady, were no crime
　　We would sit down and think which way
　　To walk and pass our long love’s day.
　　Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
　　Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
　　Of Humber would complain. I would
　　Love you ten years before the Flood,
　　And you should, if you please, refuse
　　Till the conversion of the Jews.
　　My vegetable love should grow
　　Vaster than empires, and more slow;
　　An hundred years should go to praise
　　Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
　　Two hundred to adore each breast,
　　But thirty thousand to the rest;
　　An age at least to every part,
　　And the last age should show your heart.
　　For, Lady, you deserve this state,
　　Nor would I love at lower rate.