The Primrose

Upon this Primrose hill,

Where, if Heav'n would distil

A shower of rain, each several drop might go

To his own primrose, and grow manna so;

And where their form and their infinity

Make a terrestrial Galaxy,

As the small stars do in the sky:

I walk to find a true Love; and I see

That 'tis not a mere woman that is she,

But must or more or less than woman be.

Yet know I not which flower

I wish; a six, or four;

For should my true-Love less than woman be

She were scarce any thing; and then, should she

Be more than woman she would get above

All thought of sex, and think to move

My heart to study her, and not to love;

Both these were monsters; since there must reside

Falsehood in woman, I could more abide

She were by art than Nature falsified.

Live primrose then, and thrive

With thy true number five;

And woman, whom this flower doth represent,

With this mysterious number be content;

Ten is the farthest number; if half ten

Belong unto each woman, then

Each woman may take half us men;

Or if this will not serve their turn, since all

Numbers are odd or even, and they fall

First into this, five, woman may take us all.